


The Cataclysmic Adventures of Ladybug and Chat Blanc

by Rowan_the_Escapist



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: AU, Angst, Canon Divergence, Enemies to lovers for life, F/M, Fix It, Gabriel's A+ parenting, Shifting perspectives, Slowburn all the way babies, You're Welcome, began writing after s3, but to be fair i'm not trying to be canon, lila doesn't exist, some blood n stuff, take it or leave it, tiny bit of a fix it i'm not gonna lie, warning tho
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-07
Updated: 2021-01-23
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:34:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 27,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23536105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rowan_the_Escapist/pseuds/Rowan_the_Escapist
Summary: What if Ladybug and Chat Noir were not partners, but enemies?What if Chat Noir was drawn to his mysterious red rival, despite his knowing that she stood between him and getting his mother back?What if, instead of being a reclusive piece of trash, Gabriel Agreste had told his son everything from the beginning and encouraged him to be a mentally healthy and driven supervillain instead of a lonely and depressed superhero?A somewhat passive aggressive AU where Chat Noir works with his father to steal the earrings from Ladybug and save his mom but slowly begins to fall for Ladybug anyway.Slow burn, wip, shifting perspectives, Rena Rouge and Carapace are in it from the beginning and stick around, Gabriel isn't an idiot, and they're all in highschool during Stoneheart because honestly I cannot deal with the idea of them being anything younger than 15.
Relationships: Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir/Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug, Alya Césaire/Nino Lahiffe, Plagg/Tikki (Miraculous Ladybug), adrienette, enemies to lovers - Relationship, ladynoir, marichat - Relationship, slowburn - Relationship
Comments: 19
Kudos: 60





	1. The Origins of Ladybug and Chat Blanc

**Author's Note:**

> I got super board of canon's will-they-won't-they, never committing or developing characters trash so I decided to spice things up just a tiny bit  
> It's all gonna take a while but I think it'll be good
> 
> I'm also open to feedback, feel free to commit ways you think I can improve my writing because I know it ain't the snazziest

Tikki said she would have a partner. The fairy—god? thing that now possessed her earrings had told her that there would be one other superhero, the holder of the Black Cat ring. But now, as she looked out at the rock-monster that was once her classmate Ivan, gripping terrified Mylene and Chloe in his fists, she saw no one. No side kick, no other hero, no one but a rush of people streaming away from the rocky giant trekking through the city, surrounded by an ever-growing army of smaller stone minions. Marinette had managed to defeat him once, barely, but had screwed it all up by not capturing the akuma, and now the whole of Paris was suffering for it. There had to have been a mistake. She wasn’t cut out for this superhero thing, and apparently neither had the other user—whoever they had been.

“Tikki, spots off.”

Her bodysuit flickered off in a flash of pink light, and the her kwami partner flew beside her, concerned.

“This is wrong Tikki, I can’t do this, I’m no superhero.”

“Yes, Marinette you can! I believe in you, I’ve seen your kind spirit and I know that you have what it takes to be an amazing superhero, you just need to have a bit of confidence in yourself!”

Smoke billowed up from where a crushed car had been set aflame after being trampled upon by a rock monster. People screamed and ran, broken glass and pavement flying from beneath the feet of panicked mobs. The occasional purple butterfly could be spotted vanishing out of sight, a new stone beast taking its place among the throngs of people.

“But Tikki,” Marinette said, looking out at the chaos, “How can I do this alone? The other user, whoever they are—they’re not here”

Tikki’s little brow scrunched up in similar concern. “This is not what I expected, either. He should be here by now” She zoomed to look through over the edge of the roof Marinette had taken refuge on after flying across the city haphazardly with her yoyo. A single bound had propelled her from the street onto the roof of a typical Parisian townhouse, from which now sat and watched the stone giants, scared and helpless.

“Plagg…” Tikki whimpered.

Marinette looked up. “Who?”

Tikki turned back to her, a sad look painted across her tiny face. She opened her mouth to answer when a familiar voice spoke out from a ways behind her.

“The kwami of the Black Cat.” Marinette turned toward the sound and saw two figures bounding towards her over the shingles and chimneys of the neighboring houses. Within a couple of seconds, the figures, a male and a female, clad in suits that resembled a turtle and a fox, stood directly over her. The girl reached out her hand towards Marinette, speaking again. “And unfortunately, there’s been a terrible mistake”

Marinette took the hand of the girl and rose to her feet. Who were these two strangers, and why did they seem so familiar…?

“Dude, we are so totally screwed, Marinette you’ve got no idea--” the fox slapped her partner on the arm, silencing him with a glare

Wait. Marinette recognized that voice too. She turned to the boy. “Nino?” a smile flashed over the hooded hero’s face

“Yeah dude, who else?”

Turning back to the fox—“and you’re Alya, right?”

The fox—Alya--sighed dramatically, shooting Nino a glare. “Well I guess the whole secret identity thing is out the window then.” She looked back at Marinette. “But then again we did find you here all de-transformed. Seriously girl, there’s a supervillain crashing through the city and you’re chilling on a roof in your day clothes?”

Marinette blushed and stammered. “Well I was—see, I was supposed to have a--another super--there was supposed to be a Black Cat here to help me with this whole--” she gestured out to the rubble and chaos over the skyline—“De-evilizing thing. And I guess all alone I just kinda-“

“About the Black Cat,” Alya interrupted. Her and Nino shared a glance. “That’s actually why we’re here.”

“Yeah dude,” Nino interjected, “apparently Alya and I weren’t even supposed to get powers or anything ‘cause you and the Black Cat were supposed to handle this whole mess, which I get it dude the kwamis said you’re like, balanced or something but then—”

“The Black Cat’s gone rouge,” Alya interrupted, pushing Nino to the side and pulling out her phone. She pulled up a video, a live feed broadcasting from a news van at the Eiffel Tower, where the biggest stone giant had just arrived. But the rock monster wasn’t the only one caught on the camera, there was also a figure clad in white perched on the tower, surrounded by a swarm of akuma. Marinette watched the feed as a squad of policemen tried to approach the tower, guns raised. The moment they started shooting, a blast of white light emanated from the pale figure, and a crater appeared just feet away from the cops, who halted their advancement. 

Marinette squinted at the figure, an off-white color in the light of the waning daylight. “Isn’t he supposed to be, you know, a black cat?”

Tikki zoomed forward, a distraught look on her face. “He’s been akumatized, just like Ivan.”

Alya looked over at the kwami, her face scrunched. “That can happen? More than one person akumatized at once?"

“It is possible,” the kwami said softly, “if the victim willingly submits.”

Marinette swiveled her head towards her kwami. “What do you mean, ‘willingly—'"

A low, loud chuckle boomed across the city, a tinny echo lagging though the phone’s audio. 

“People of Paris!” The feed over the phone zoomed in on the white clad figure, the speaker. “I am Chat Blanc, and I speak on behalf of Hawkmoth. We are responsible for the cat-tastropie that has occurred today.” 

Nino and Alya looked towards the tower and the sound, but Marinette’s eyes remained planted on the video. The speaker—Chat Blanc--was clad in all white, his piercing blue eyes seeming to look directly at the camera. At her. An eerie chill fell over her. This was wrong, she knew. Very, very wrong.

Tikki stirred. “Plagg, no…”

Chat Blanc continued. “We mean the people of Paris no harm, and once our demands are meant, we will have the power to return everything to its place, no harm done. All we ask is that the Ladybug earrings are given over immediately. Tick toc though, the longer we have to wait, the more people will be turned to stone.” Despite his previous bemusement, he looked somewhat concerned at the prospect. “And sure, they’ll be fine in the end, but not even magic can heal psychological trauma. So please, give us the earrings quickly.” 

Blanc took a step back and sat down, dangling a foot over the edge of the girder he was perched upon, his speech apparently over. A cloud of dark butterflies flew down over the crowd to emphasize his point, landing on more panicked civilians and turning them into stone minions. The news report then turned towards speculation and Alya shut off her phone. 

“Girl, he’s talking about you.” Alya put a hand on Marinette’s shoulder. Marinette touched a hand to her left earring, the pit in her stomach ever growing. 

“Why me?” she asked no one in particular. “Why these things?”

Tikki spoke up. “Together, the black cat and ladybug charms grant a powerful wish,” she explained, “a wish that could tear our universe apart. We must not allow them to fall into Hawkmoth’s hands.”

Another impact rocked the city, and over the skyline Marinette could see the Eiffel Tower in the distance being climbed by the largest rock monster—Ivan. Waves of butterflies flew from the tower and, landed on more and more panicked civilians below.

“What are we waiting for dudes, we’ve got to get over there!” Nino shouted, beginning to run towards the tower.

“Wait!” Alya yelled after him, “Is it even safe for Marinette to be there?” Nino turned back.

“I know that we need her powers to cleanse the butterflies,” Alya continued, “but we can’t risk her falling into Hawkmoth’s hands.” Alya pinned her with a worried, yet contemplative look, intimidating in her powerful orange getup.

Marinette trembled with nerves and fear, sweating profusely. Her friend was right.

“Maybe…” she squeaked silently, Alya turning her head towards her, “Maybe you should…I should...”

“Dude don’t worry about it,” Nino said, slapping her on the shoulder a bit too hard with his new super strength.

“Yeah girl,” Alya chimed in, “Mr. Carapace over there and I will take a go at it. Once the cat’s in the bag, you can come in and take care of the butterflies.”

“O-ok,” she peeped in response. 

Another big impact, this time a result of one of Chat Blanc’s blasts. 

“Time to roll,” Nino said, inviting Marinette to climb on his back.

“But shouldn’t I…?” she started

“No,” Alya said flatly, “It’ll be safer if none of the badies know you’re there, so don’t transform until we’ve taken care of the villains. 

“Right, you’re right.” She climbed on Nino, no, Carapace’s back, and held on as he bounded over rooftops towards the Eiffel Tower. She looked over at Alya. Her new friend’s face was grimly set, the picture of confidence—or it would be, if not for a strong tremor in her lower lip. Marinette felt Nino’s hands holding her legs as he bounded over the rooftops. He was trembling. 

They were terrified.

***

Chat Blanc was not doing well. He gripped the girder beneath him tightly and looked out upon the chaos he had caused and felt upset. His father had gone over this plan a dozen times over the last day, and he knew why they were doing it. But still…Paris burned beneath him, at his doing. While the destruction flowed through him easily, scary easy, he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was very wrong. But he had to persist. The life of his mother depended on it.

He still remembered that dark day clearly. One moment his mother was lively and well and humming softly over breakfast in the dining room, and the next she was lying in the stasis pod in the sanctuary beneath the Agreste mansion. He and his father had never been close. But after that moment, his father opened up to him, the only family he had left. For the first real time, Adrien had felt like his son. Gabriel had told him everything, about the peacock miraculous’s poisoning and about the artifacts that could bring back his mother. At first it was odd, suddenly being so close, but as they spent hours pouring over ancient manuscripts together, looking desperately for a hint as to the location of the miraculouses, Adrien had allowed his father to grow in his heart. He was still cold, sure, but he was honest and open and, most importantly, there for his son. Adrien himself didn’t dare to think about what would have happened to him if he’d been left alone at during that tragic time, at what he would have become. Still, as close as he had become to his father recently, there was no filling the hole in his heart left by the death of his mother…

A bullet whizzed past his ear. Chat gritted his teeth and launched a glowing white cataclysm at the base of the tower, were a very brave policeman had somehow snuck past the ever-growing army of mini Stonehearts accumulating around him. His powers, once limited to a single short-range effect, had grown with his father’s akuma’s help, allowing for multiple dynamic blasts and no fear of de-transforming. A second after the blast hit, a butterfly landed on the frightened but unharmed policeman’s forehead and he joined the stone army.

He felt his father stirring in his mind. It was odd, being akumatized, in essence possessed by the akuma, his father able to communicate with him through his mind, but it was something they had practiced before and he had grown accustomed to the rough but reassuring presence his father impressed into the back of his mind. The slight, ever-present manipulation and mind reading were weird, but the fact that they were both choosing to work towards the same end goal made things a lot easier. Nevertheless…

“What have I told you about using your power so often?” The sharp voice came from both in and outside of him, echoing through the bond that the akuma had forged. 

Chat Blanc grimaced. “I’m sorry father, I know it’s difficult to expend your power on two people at once, even with my cooperation.”

“That’s not the point,” his father snapped back, “you need to save your strength for when our true goal arrives.”

“Yes father.” Chat stilled for a moment, then continued. “It’s been over an hour. How do we even know they ladybug user is coming? Maybe after failing to defeat Stoneheart the first time, the user gave up.”  
Chat Blanc looked at his ring, active and pale white on his akumatized clawed hand. He was still amazed at the stroke of luck that had somehow dropped half of the all-powerful duo they needed right into his grasp. It seemed like fate that it had happened, like the universe was agreeing to their righteous plan. But it had been easy, so easy. Chat was having trouble believing that the ladybug would be anywhere near as simple.

“No,” his father boomed through their bond. “From what I have read, other than the cat’s power of destruction, only the ladybug can nullify my akumas. Even if the Ladybug user had planned on retiring before, they will have to show themself now, our little display here today will force their hand.”

Chat looked down at the carnage around him again. It was terrible, he knew, but once the ladybug’s power was in their grasp, they could fix everything. The smoking wreckage was frightening, sure, but it would get better. And besides, a small part of him was almost proud of the wreckage he had caused. Most likely the sense can from the ring, he thought, but still, there was an ease to which he sent his surroundings tumbling down that he couldn’t help but admire.

As he scanned the crowd of police officers that were stubbornly still gathered around the tower, he spied a group near the back trying to aim at him without being noticed. Chat smirked and flicked a cataclysm their way, causing the scaffolding on a nearby building to explode and rain debris upon the officers. No one appeared hurt, at least not from his vantage point, and he let out a small sigh of relief as his father chided him again--his suit was bulletproof after all, no need to snipe at useless targets. But Chat just smiled to himself. As close as he was now to his father, he was still very much under his thumb. It was nice to have a bit of freedom, of power, to wield. 

Nevertheless, he couldn’t shake the sinking feeling that there was something that he was missing.

***

Upon nearing the tower, Nino set Marinette down on top of a building near the police barricade. The whole area was enveloped in total chaos, and several more craters had been made in the lawn and buildings surrounding the tower. No one saw them arrive, the remaining civilians—mostly stubborn reporters—and law enforcement had all of their attention focused on the Eiffel and on dodging the stone monsters that continued to trudge in from all over the city. 

Marinette looked up at the tower, squinting against the backlit structure. She could see the darkening silhouette of Chat Blanc, cast into shadow by the setting sun behind him. A tremor entirely unrelated to explosions or rock monsters shook through her again, and the pit in her stomach seemed to grow.

She drew closer to Alya, seeking comfort though proximity to her new friend. The orange heroine crouched behind a banister, surveying the scene and talking to Nino under her breath about strategy. Her voice grew increasingly rapid as she counted the rock monsters and clenched her arms tightly around herself. 

Another white explosion hit shockingly close to where they were hiding, and they all jumped, Alya letting out a sudden surprised shout. Nino placed a hand on her shoulder, and they made eye contact. Marinette saw something pass through them then, a sort of certainty. Something inside her recognized that connection. Suddenly, more than scared, she felt sad. That connection, she was meant to have it too, wasn’t she?

Tikki gave her a knowing look and nuzzled against her shoulder. 

“Alrighty,” Nino said finally. “Ayla, how about you use Rena Rouge’s power of Illusion first to sneak up to the Cat dude and then-“

“No,” Marinette cut in. She clenched her fists. She was terrified, true, but so were they, and she had to do something.

Alya and Nino looked her way.

“Marinette…” Alya started.

“That plan won’t work,” she continued. “Chat Blanc may be more powerful, but stone monsters are pouring in from all over the city. If you don’t take care of Ivan first, they’ll defeat you through sheer numbers alone, and we have to get Mylene and Chloe out of harm’s way” 

Alya and Nino glanced at one another, then back at her. “That makes sense,” Alya said. “What do you think we should do?”

One last wave of doubt crashed through her. What was she thinking? She was just an ordinary girl without the faintest idea on how to defeat a supervillain, or make up a strategy, or fight—heck, up until a day ago, her biggest concern had been around dealing with Chloe and finishing her homework on time. What made her at all qualified to win this fight? Her enemies had all of the advantages, and she had nothing but a couple friends and a yoyo.

She looked back at her friends, crouched before her. Nino and she had been in the same class before, and while they were never quite close, he had always seemed so nice whenever she’d spoken to him, always upbeat and earnest. Alya was newer, but she had been so kind to her, standing up to Chloe and sharing her comics. They both looked up at her now, expecting a grand solution that she didn’t know for sure that she had.

She felt Tikki alight on her shoulder, and a new feeling spread through her. She remembered Alya’s statement from class not so long ago, “All that is necessary for the triumph of evil is that good people do nothing.” 

She didn't think it was wise for her to bring the ladybug earrings into the fight, but she had to do something. Slowly but surely, things began to move into place in her mind. She took a deep breath in.

“Ok,” Marinette said, her voice shaking as she crouched down next to the others. “Here’s the plan.”

***

Adrien was contemplating taking aim at a couple of approaching military helicopters when the giant woman appeared.

“Holy sh—"

“GREETINGS, HAWKMOTH,” the figure boomed. 

Chat nearly fell off his girder. 

The woman was dressed in an orange bodysuit with a matching mask that was level with the platform Chat perched upon, just under halfway up the Eiffel Tower. She stood in a street a couple blocks away from the main square, hands at her hips and an unreadable look on her face.

“Father, father do you-“

“I AM RENA ROUGE, AND I COME BARING A MESSAGE FROM THE LADYBUG MIRACULOUS,” the form continued, “LISTEN WELL, AND HEAD MY INTENTIONS”

The whole of Paris stilled. The cops down below, the stone monsters, the reporters and camera men, all of them had their eyes turned to the giant figure, who looked around, surveying the baffled crowd below her. Even his father drew quiet, his presence only made known through an attentive fluttering in the back of Chat’s mind.

The figure shifted, raising her eyes to Chat and fixing him with an empty stare. Slowly, the figure raised her right hand from her side into direct view, and Chat leaned in, looking attentively at her opening palm.

Then she paused, and the slightest grin passed over her mouth.

Her hand stilled, palm side facing away from him, and she raised a single finger to the sky.

***

As Marinette had predicted, a majority of the stone monsters broke away from the base of the tower and began to swarm after Rena Rouge’s giant illusion. Chat Blanc seemed to be shouting at them to stay put, but as Marinette had noticed earlier in the streets, the creatures were dull and only vaguely directed. Now that giant illusion Rena held their attention as a threat, they swarmed towards her, away from the two superheroes sneaking their way up the tower on the opposite side. Each one of their superpowered bounds propelled them dozens of feet higher, closer to Ivan, who remained near the top of the tower, watching his army rush towards the illusion who still mocked him from a distance.

Marinette watched, still perched on the rooftop in wait. 

She couldn’t endanger the earrings--or at least that’s what she told herself--but deep down she still feared that she couldn’t really help, that she couldn’t be the one punching bad guys and being the hero. Luckily, Rena Rouge and Carapace seemed more than up to the task.

They bounded ever higher, climbing past Chat Blanc without him noticing. Blanc was quite occupied--A couple of military helicopters had appeared over the horizon and were drawing nearer, and with a large portion of his army being pulled away by Rena’s distraction, the remaining police were emboldened and began to take shots at the tower again. 

As Marinette watched, Blanc sent off several of his white blasts, sending the police scattering. He aimed a blast in the direction of one of the approaching choppers and only narrowly missed hitting its left side. The choppers pealed off and touched down some blocks away, no doubt to regroup and come up with a new strategy. Marinette knew that whatever they did would be useless. No regular person could stand up against the likes of these villains with their vast magical abilities, they were just going to get hurt.

Rena and Carapace were over halfway up the Eiffel, getting close to the top where Ivan still held Mylene and Chloe. She made sure to track their movements closely, as if her worried attention could somehow keep them safe. 

Was this all she was good for? Coming up with half-baked plans and watching from the sideline? She remembered Alya’s voice in her mind, she had to stay safe. But that wasn’t right, and Marinette knew it. She couldn’t just standby and watch, letting others put themselves in danger without doing anything. But what could she really do? Afterall, it was her fault this whole mess was happening. In the end, it was probably better to just let them handle it.

She felt Tikki land on her shoulder.

“Marinette,” she consoled, “you should be out there, helping.”

“I know Tikki,” she said in response, “but I’m not very good at this whole hero thing.” She sighed. “We’ll wait out here like Alya said until they’ve released the akuma.”

“But Marinette—”

“Wait!” Marinette started, looking towards Chat Blanc, who had stopped trying to yell orders at the departing rock hoard or snipe at the policemen. Instead, he looked around, his head on a swivel. Marinette’s breath hitched; he had caught on to their plan. She knew that he didn’t know who or where the other two were at, already so high above him, but it was only a matter of time…

Chat stilled. Marinette watched him, heart pounding. He tilted his head to the side and sniffed, smelling the air long and hard, like an animal. 

Another pause.

And then, faster than her eye could track, he sent off a long white beam crashing near the top of the tower, and she watched as Rena Rouge and Carapace were sent flying, falling through the air.

“No!” She shouted as she watched them fall through the air, Carapace reaching out for Rena. He grabbed hold of her and a shining green shell enveloped the two, muffling the impact as they hit the pavement beneath the tower, cracking the surface.

A long laughed echoed out across the square.

Chat Blanc bounded down the tower, a stream of dark butterflies following in his wake like a shimmering train. Reaching the bottom, Blanc approached the green bubble, still intact, and began to circle around it, a smirk crossing his lips.

“I take it this was your doing?” He directed at Rena, gesturing to her monstrous duplicate still visible in the darkening evening sky. 

Rena gritted her teeth and wiped a trickle of blood away from her mouth. She struggled to rise from the crouching position she had remained in, letting out a gurgle of anguish and kneeling back down, grasping her ankle. Marinette gasped, spying a piece of metal shrapnel lodged in her ankle, still glowing faintly from the destructive power it took to pierce through her suit.

Carapace, who appeared more unharmed, crouched next to her and glared up at Blanc, fury in his eyes.

“Dude, you are going to regret that.”

Blanc seemed unbothered, continuing to stalk around the bubble.

“Illusions and Shielding,” he stated, “You two must be the fox and turtle carriers.” He frowned and crouched down just outside the bubble. “Where’s you’re lovely ladybug then? I’m so very eager to make their acquaintance.”

“Nowhere,” Alya said, sputtering. She smiled, desperately trying to exude an aura of confidence despite her pained features. “I just said that I spoke for her to distract you.”

Chat Blanc chuckled. “I very much doubt that, Miss Rouge.” He stood. “It is Rouge, right? Rena Rouge, you said? That’s a cool name. And yours is…?” He gestured at Nino, who scowled and said nothing. 

Blanc looked around the square, scanning the surrounding area, trying to find his target. Marinette ducked lower behind the banister, feeling his piercing gaze wash past her, heavy and impactful.

“It’s really too bad,” he finally said, “under different circumstances in think we could’ve been…” he trailed off. 

Rena cursed at him, grimacing as blood leaked from her wound. 

“You know, the ladybug earrings can heal that,” Blanc said pointing at her ankle. “If you tell me where the user is, I could use their power to completely reverse the injury, no problem.”

“You’re delusional if you think we’d tell you anything,” Rena spat. Carapace placed his arms protectively around her, and a beeping noise sounded from within the bubble. Rena grasped at her fox pendant. Blanc smiled.

“Rena Rouge and Turtleboy may be able to resist us,” he said simply, “but will the little girl and boy hiding under their masks be able to do the same?”

Carapace snarled. “Back off dude!”

Blanc took a step back, hands in the air defensively. “Hey now, I don’t want to hurt either of you, but I really need the ladybug miraculous.”

“Never,” Rena snarled.

Blanc stilled. He tilted his head, as if were listening to something, and then sighed. 

“Fine,” he said, “Let’s speed this up.”

He raised an arm up, and a ball of light began to appear on his fingertips

“Last chance…” he started, but Marinette didn’t hear the rest, blood pounding in her ears.

She saw Nino raising his smaller, physical shield as a final, weak protection.

She saw Blanc’s outstretched hand and the ball of light growing in his palm.

She saw Alya’s frightened, dark brown eyes travel and lock onto her, radiating grim and absolute determination through her terror.

Last chance

And suddenly, everything clicked into place.

“Tikki,” she said, “spots on.”

***

“Last chance to tell me where the ladybug user is,” Chat said, raising his palm, a glowing white ball of pure destructive energy forming at his fingers.

“Just do it,” his father hissed in his ear, “the sooner that shield is down, the sooner we’ll be able to get her back.”

Chat knew that, and though he wished there was another way, he knew what he needed to do.

With a silent prayer that neither of the two frightened heroes were harmed in the blast, he flexed his hand.

“Catacly—”

Several things happened all at once. 

A tight yanking on his wrist suddenly dragged his arm up towards the sky and his cataclysm misfired, blowing off the entire top story of the Eiffel Tower, the giant stone monster along with it. The cord that had abruptly wrapped around his wrists loosened and was pulled away by a red blur that whizzed past him, soaring towards the falling giant. 

Chat felt a flutter in his chest.

His father spoke. “Adrien—” but he wasn’t listening, transfixed by the sight that now befell him.

As Stoneheart fell, he released the two girls he had been holding from his massive palms. Chat watched as the red figure arched through the air, curling and swinging around the tower like a dancer in the sky, catching the screaming civilians and gracefully setting them on the second tier of the tower. The figure, not pausing for a moment, then leapt back over the edge and fell with Stoneheart, swinging and grabbing an object out of the sky as the giant hit the ground, shaking the earth. Stoneheart stood up, unsteady but unharmed, and roared loudly in the direction of where the figure swung to a landing. But before he could approach, the figure in red crushed the object she had grabbed, releasing the original akuma into the sky. She arched and a round red blur shot forward from her hand, catching the akuma and glowing with a soft pink light. Chat could faintly hear a soft voice speaking as a white butterfly rose from the red girl’s palm.

“Bye bye little butterfly.”

The stone monster shrank back into that of a high school boy.

Slowly, the girl in red turned towards him, and terrifying grimace crossed her face as she met his eyes.

“You’re up next, Kitty.”


	2. The Origins of Ladybug and Chat Blanc Pt. 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tiny bit shorter this time, I'm still getting the hang of formatting these things. This one was really fun to write though!  
> As always, I'm open to constructive criticism, so feel free to leave a passive aggressive remark as you see fit

The swarm of akuma that had been following Chat Blanc around, once fueled by Ivan’s anger, began to dissipate. His father’s little minions, once so dark and frightening, began to one by one turn pale and fly off, presumably returning to their mundane butterfly lives. However, before the dark cloud could dissolve entirely, the akumas gathered into a giant swarm above him and a booming voice echoed through the city.

“People of Paris, listen carefully. I am Hawkmoth.” The deep and commanding voice drummed out from his father’s face, now forming in the cloud. The mountainous form angled towards the girl in red—Ladybug.

Ladybug. 

Something about her… 

“You there,” he boomed at her, “give Chat Blanc the ladybug earrings now. Don’t you think that you and your little sidekicks have done enough damage to these innocent people?”

Ladybug seemed to hesitate for a second, but Blanc must have imagined it. She began to advance towards his father and him, a confident smile on her face, her hands clapping sardonically. Blanc found himself taking just the slightest step backwards as she strode forward. 

“Nice try Hawkmoth, but we know who the real bad guy is, let’s not reverse the roles here,” she spoke, glaring up at his father’s dissipating form, anger and confidence flooding her features. 

“Without you,” she continued, “none of those innocent people would have been transformed into villains. Hawkmoth, Chat Blanc, no matter how long it takes, I will defeat you, and you will give me your miraculouses!”

With a sudden burst of magical strength, she leapt forward, a red blur rushing toward him, yoyo extending towards his hands. He would have been ensnared again, like how she’d redirected his cataclysm before, but his father momentarily took control of his basic motor functions--using Blanc’s own body to sort of shove himself away from Ladybug’s attack. It was uncomfortable, not something he enjoyed his father doing at all, but as he watched his opponent’s weapon—yoyo?—smash into the pavement, sending tiny chunks of concrete flying, he was admittedly grateful for his interference. Still, Blanc knew he definitely didn’t want him commandeering him again; he would have to keep on his toes.

As if on cue, he heard his father mentally chiding him, but he only half listened, the vast majority of his attention now on the girl in red, staring him down from where she had cleverly managed to land between him and the other two heroes. He saw the venom in her gaze and knew that this wasn’t going to be easy.

“Carapace!” she exclaimed, “get Rena Rouge out of here before you both transform back.” She fixed Blanc with a chilling stare, his gut twisting again, oddly and uncomfortably. “I’ll hold off kitty over there.”

He heard Rena Rouge start to protest, but the turtle boy—Carapace--had already dropped his barrier and lifted her up, running towards the neighboring buildings. 

Blanc didn’t follow after them. They weren’t his target and, with the fox’s injuries and the two’s timeouts getting ever closer, he doubted they’d join back in the fight. His eyes instead remained locked on her, on Ladybug, her face curled into a stubborn expression--full of a cool yet fiery rage, paining him in a way that he could only imagine was a result of her overwhelming magical presence. He drew out his staff, knowing that he couldn’t risk using a cataclysm on her for fear of damaging the earrings, and because as much as his father insisted on the necessity of their actions, he couldn’t bring himself to actually kill anybody. And the thought of harming her…no.

This wasn’t going to be easy at all.

“Pleasure to make your acquaintance, my lady,” he said at last, lounging comfortably against his staff, propped against one of the many loose chunks of pavement lying around, dislodged by Stoneheart’s impact. His weapon in her sights she sized him up anew, blue eyes flitting towards his staff then scanning him up and down with a contemplative gaze. 

“I assure you, kitty,” she said through her frown, still sizing him up, “the pleasure is all yours.”

Still she remained in place, standing a good distance away from him, her yoyo in hand. From what he had seem of her simple and straight forward attacks, he knew that—as strong as she was--she was quite inexperienced to fighting strategically, which gave Blanc a bit of an advantage. However, as she watched him with a knowledgeable eye, she still seemed aware of how his staff would give him the advantage in a close-quarters fight, and wisely kept her distance, her blue eyes never ceasing their rigorous scan of him. It made his stomach churn in a way that threw him off just a tiny bit, and he smirked, attempting to right himself. 

“Now my lady, your gaze is purr-fectly lovely”—he saw her physically grimace at his horrible pun—“but how about we save the dressing down until after our business is concluded, hmm?” Her eyes shot back to meet his in disgust and he winked, out of panic more than anything else. She scoffed.

“Nice try Blanc,” she said, her eyebrows arching in disdain, “but I’m not falling for your ridiculous taunts.”

She planted her feet firmer in place and stared him down, fist trembling in what he was sure was contained rage as she clutched her weapon closely.

He could feel his father stirring in his ear.

“Good,” he said in his son’s mind, “try to draw her in closer.”

“I know,” he practically hissed back, trying to concentrate. He felt his father’s disapproval and saw Ladybug’s skepticism—it must have looked like he was talking to himself.

Chat smirked to break the tension and stepped forward, trying to subtly close the gap between them, but Ladybug began to back up, trailing away with every move he made.

“Look, kitty,” she said as they circled each other, “I’m only going say this once. You’ve caused a lot of damage here, and as much as I’d like to see you rot in a jail cell for a good period of time, I know that at least part of the damage that you’ve caused today was due to Hawkmoth, so I’m prepared to offer you a deal.” He raised an eyebrow in mock interest. 

“Give me your miraculous and tell me where Hawkmoth is hiding, and I’ll look the other way as you escape,” she finished, awaiting his reply.

He sighed, somewhat dramatically, and shook his head. “And here I thought we could have a pleasant time together,” he said, practically purring, his adrenaline and nerves pressing an oddly flirtatious lilt into his voice that he wasn’t entirely uncomfortable with. 

“So that’s a no then?” she asked.

“Hurry up,” his father hissed, “she’s bargaining; she’s not as confident as she looks, I can feel her doubt. It’s under tight control, a pity for my akumas, but you can still easily defeat her.”

Chat Blanc doubted that it would be so easy, but he knew that his father was only trying to encourage him. And--Chat saw as he glanced quickly at his surroundings, hurry him--as without the Stoneheart army, the police were beginning to trek forward, with the military no doubt not far behind. Ladybug seemed to realize the same thing.

“Stay back!” she yelled towards the crowd, turning and waving her arm towards them. “This kitten may not look like much, but please remember the damage he’s already caused you, and let me handle this!” Chat smiled. 

“My lady, you flatter me,” he intoned melodically in her direction. Then towards the crowd, he raised his voice. “She’s right you know.” He brought his hand up, palm facing the crowd.

“I do cause a lot of damage.”

A blast rocketed out from his palm and toward the oncoming officers.

“No!” Ladybug shouted, leaping towards him again, only to falter short as he instinctively turned his firing arm in her direction. 

The blast flew over the heads of the officers and crashed it the building behind them without seeming to harm anyone, but he could see Ladybug’s attention was broken, torn between him and the now retreating crowd. 

He really should’ve let her get close enough to do damage with his staff—he could have easily used her impulsive leap towards him to push her down and retrieve the earrings--but something in him rebelled against striking her. He knew that once the fight begun, it wouldn’t be stopped until one of then stood over the other, victorious. And as much as he needed to retrieve her miraculous, he didn’t want to think about what her defeat would look like, or the lengths he might have to go to facilitate it.

But he could feel his father prodding him forward. He leveled his hand with Ladybug’s face so as not to be manipulated again and began to charge one final blast.

“Last chance Ladybug,” he said, “earrings, or…” he twitched his hand.

She seemed dazed for a moment, but Chat was sure she was just sizing him up again. 

Her eyes met his again and she spoke.

“You’re bluffing, Blanc. There’s no way you would risk damaging the earrings in one of your blasts.”

Time creaked by as Ladybug stared him down. They couldn’t stay in a standstill like this forever; it was his move, and they both knew it.

One second passed.

And then another.

“You’re right.”

He angled his hand downward and cataclysmed the pavement at her feet

***

Ladybug went flying, head over heels as she was thrown through the air by the blast. She landed hard against her back and gained her senses just in time to see Chat Blanc’s staff streaking through the air towards her face. She rolled aside just in time and leapt to her feet, raising her arms to block his next blow. Faster than she could think, his staff struck her hastily raised forearms and elicited a cry of pain; he was strong. 

Her quick defense must have shaken him though, because he bounced back just a tiny bit, giving her the headway to launch her yoyo towards his face. He dodged to the side, surprised, but he still managed to slam his staff over the yoyo’s cord and into the ground, trapping it and causing her to lurch forward suddenly. His staff released the yoyo, coming forward instead to make hard contact with her stomach, knocking the wind out of her and sending her flying backwards into one of the bases of the Eiffel tower.

She wheezed, trying to recover her breath, but she hadn’t so much as raised her yoyo when Chat Blanc appeared directly before her, pressing into her throat with his staff. Trapped with the tower base behind her, she choked on the pressure, her hands weakly grasping at the metal cylinder and her body struggled for air.

She looked at Blanc’s eyes, boring into her. He wasn’t smiling now.

“Ladybug,” he said over her gasping, “please, don’t make this any harder than it has to be. I just need you to—”

“Go to hell” she snarled, and attempted to kick at his manhood. 

He, a bit surprised, managed to dodge her dirty attack, but loosened his staff enough for her to slip out from beneath it, dropping to the ground and sweeping his feet out from under him. She reached out to grab at his staff, but even falling over he struck her shoulder with the edge of the weapon, sending her careering backwards with a cry as he tried to right himself. 

Now properly wary of his short-ranged power, she jumped back a good distance and launched the yoyo again. It successfully wrapped around the staff, loosening the weapon in Blanc’s still unsteady grasp. But just as she was about to wrench it from his hands, he tightened his grip once more and looked up at her, face set in grim determination. Reaching, he grabbed the cord of her yoyo and began to pull her towards him, closing their distance once again. 

Her mind raced through scenarios for escape. She could let go of the cord, but that would leave her without a weapon, and she wasn’t even sure if she could summon her Lucky Charm without it--not that he had given her much of a chance to do so yet anyway. He obviously outclassed her, and while she was sure they had received their miraculouses around the same time, she suspected he had been trained in at least some sort of fighting technique before that; he read her moves far too easily. But what could she do? With each tug on her cord he drew her nearer to him and the reach of his staff. Already they were within twenty feet of each other, Ladybug tripping over the debris laden battlefield as she was pulled forward. 

Wait. She felt her vision narrow as she looked around her, her eyes lighting on a soccer-ball sized chunk of pavement a few feet ahead of her. She loosened her stance a bit, allowing Blanc to pull her quicker.

“Last chance Blanc,” she called out, distracting him from the suspicious amount of slack she had released on the line, “Give me your ring, or I’ll be forced to take it from you.” Lame, she knew, but she wasn’t trying to be witty.

Chat Blanc chuckled. 

“My lady,” he said, a sad smile on his face, “as much I respect your purr-severance, you can’t honestly believe—"

Ladybug wrenched sharply on the cord and wrestled back enough line for her to steady herself, taking a quick stance and then kicking the twenty-pound chunk of pavement towards Chat Blanc’s head. He dodged--of course--but the surprise attack gave Ladybug the momentum she needed to wrench her cord from his grasp. 

Rather than trying to press her advantage again, she launched her yoyo towards a beam a few stories up the tower, allowing it to wrap around and then pull her up.

“Running away my lady?” She heard Blanc yell from below, his voice laced with frustration as she evaded his grasp.

“Unfortunately for you, no,” she called back. Freeing her cord from the beam, she threw her yoyo into the air and called for her Lucky Charm, aware of Chat Blanc cursing below her.

She’d barely managed to grab her charm out of the air before she was propelled through the sky by a white blast beneath her feet, the explosion severing the westward most leg of the tower in two and throwing her yoyo from her hand. As she fell towards the ground, the tower groaning and leaning around her, she clutched at the black and red spotted object in her arms like an absurd lifeline.

Right now, the fate of Paris rested in the hope she wouldn’t be smashed upon the pavement and a polka-dotted vacuum cleaner.

***

Chat Blanc saw Ladybug fall from the severed leg of the tower towards him, a wave of metal shrapnel raining just behind. He had launched the blast in a panic, trying to prevent her from summoning her charm, and had disintegrated a sizable portion of one of the Eiffel tower’s legs by mistake. The few beams that had been left unharmed by his cataclysm had immediately snapped from the strain and sent jagged metal projectiles flying behind Ladybug, who clutched her charm to her chest and desperately tried to right herself as she flew through the air, her yoyo having been thrown from her hand. He had launched her from several stories up, and even with their magic suits, Chat wasn’t sure whether a miraculous holder could survive that drop, especially at the momentum he had propelled her with. 

In the space between seconds, he met her eyes. They seemed to freeze time, and in them, he didn’t see anger. He didn’t see her iron-willed resolve or her previous confidence.

He met her eyes, blue to blue, and in them he saw the fear of a girl who was about die a meaningless death over a stupid miraculous.

A meaningless death over a…

He leapt, his staff extending, propelling him directly into her line of flight. 

***

Ladybug smashed into Chat Blanc, hard. He broke her momentum a good bit, but they still slammed together into the north leg of the tower, falling about a story from there to the pavement below.  
Blanc had taken most of the impact, and he groaned underneath her as she jumped back, magic vacuum in her arms, ready to fight. But as he rose to meet her, he suddenly clutched at his side and buckled over, crouching on his knees. 

Ladybug stayed wary, all too aware of how adept he was at predicting her moves and counter-striking. And as if that wasn’t bad enough, she had dropped her yoyo in the fall, leaving her with nothing to defend against Blanc’s…

They seemed to register at the same time Chat Blanc’s staff had slipped out of his grasp upon impact and had landed some dozen feet away from both of them. They lunged at the staff at the same time, Ladybug reaching it first and swiveling to defend herself. 

It wasn’t necessary. 

Blanc had stumbled to the ground not a yard away from the where he had been at the tower’s base, now struggling to rise, coughing up blood with every breath. Ladybug noticed what she hadn’t before, a jagged piece of shrapnel lodged in Blanc’s side, his pristine white suit rapidly turning red as it cut into him. 

The sight of him doubled over in pain moved something deep inside her, though she knew not what. She supposed anyone bleeding profusely would be unsettling, and that it didn’t really matter whether that person was a bad guy or not. But that gash…no matter who he was, she knew that wound was serious.

She focused back on the fight at hand, narrowing her eyes at him, waiting for whatever he may throw at her next. He looked up. As he saw her with his staff, a look of panic crossed his face, and a cataclysm began to form in his free hand.

Ladybug saw his reaction, gauging his reasoning, and rapidly snapped the staff in half. As she had quickly surmised, an akuma came fluttering out at her, its tiny wings appearing so innocent and fragile.  
Ladybug reached for her yoyo to purify the akuma, the dark creature beginning to fly back towards Blanc, and in a panic realized that her weapon had been thrown hundreds of yards away towards the opposite tower leg. 

Blanc gritted his teeth and reached out for the butterfly with his unpowered hand, letting more blood spill from his wound in his desperation.

Ladybug suddenly remembered the vacuum cleaner. Turning it on—it magically didn’t need an outlet—she sucked the akuma into the cleaner’s bag, where it would be more or less contained until she could purify it. 

She glanced back at Chat Blanc. Without the power of the akuma, his suit had turned black, and the forming white power on his hand darkened as well. He regarded the de-transformation without much thought, showing no difference after becoming uncorrupted. Tikki had been right. 

“You chose Hawkmoth.” It wasn’t a question.

“She…we,” Blanc stuttered, “We need to-“

“It doesn’t matter,” Ladybug said simply. “You could have the purest reasons in the world, but the risk is too high, the power too great.”

Blanc spat out more blood. “You don’t know that.”

Ladybug looked at him incredulously. “You are aware that you just blew up the Eiffel Tower just trying to get that power, right? That gash in your side should be proof enough.”

Blanc chuckled, dazed, blood dribbling from his chin. “Hah, the Eiffel Tower…you’re clever, my lady, I’ll give you that. But,” he said, his voice stained from pain, “what are you going to do now?”

Ladybug furrowed her brows. “Take back the Black Cat miraculous and repair the damage done to the city,” she answered, suspicious. “Why,” she asked, “got anymore tricks you care to share?”

“No,” he answered, “just this one.” He waved his hand, still sparkling black with the power of destruction. “This one is all I need”

“To do what?” she asked.

“To get away, my lady, to live claw another day.”

Her eyebrow raised. “Really.”

He sighed. “I know, not my best pun, if you’d just give me a meow-ment—”

“No,” she interrupted, “how do you possibly think you’re going to make it out of here. One single cataclysm isn’t enough to--”

“Bring down the Eiffel tower.”

Her blood ran still. 

“What?”

“It already lost the support of one leg. I take out this one,” he said, gesturing to the base right behind him, “it goes down. Sure, you can repair the physical damage, but I know a great deal about the ladybug miraculous. And let me tell you,” his eyes suddenly fixing her with deadly intensity, “it has never once brought the dead back to life.”

The Eiffel groaned above her, the weakened metal of the supporting legs emphasizing his point.

“Which is what you’re gonna have, if I bring down the tower,” he continued, “a whole lot of dead people.”

She looked beyond the tower and saw that the military forces had finally arrived and had set up a parameter around the Eiffel. No one was advancing yet, but if the tower fell, that wouldn’t matter; there was a very likely possibility that many would be crushed. 

But still, something wasn’t right.

“You wouldn’t do that,” she said, very much hoping she was right. “You’ve minimized harming people as much as possible, there’s no way that you’d up and murder a bunch now.”

“Wrong,” he countered smoothly or as smoothly as he could while still spitting up blood, “I was just trying to minimize any persecution I was going to have to deal with after this whole thing is over. The feds crack down a lot harder on mass murder than they do damage of public property.”

She paused, considering. Something still felt off. This whole situation, how he’d jumped in front of her…

“You saved me.”

He blinked.

“I was going to be turned into a pancake against the side of the tower and you broke my fall,” she said, realizing how odd that sounded out loud, but something inside her told her it was true. “You saved me.”

“I saved the earrings”

“That makes no—”

Blanc raised his hand towards the tower again.

“Look,” he said, “either you run and get your yoyo before the akuma you have trapped multiples and breaks loose--letting me get away--or you do choose to capture me, in which case I will cataclysm the tower and the blood of Paris will be on your hands.”

“That’s not—”

“Tic toc,” he said softly, with something Ladybug could swear was regret. “At this rate that akuma’s clones are going to bust out of the vacuum at any second.”

He wasn’t wrong, even as he spoke, she could feel a rapid fluttering coming from inside the cleaner’s bag. But there was still a part of his scheme that she didn’t quite understand.

“How do you even plan to get anyway?” she asked, slightly concerned, “you’re losing a lot of blood. You won’t even make it to the police barricade before passing out.”

“Leave that to me, my lady,” he said with a smirk. “I’m paw-sitively certain I’ll find a way.”

She opened her mouth to speak again and felt the vacuum shake in her arms. Two akuma flew from the mouth of the cleaner and Ladybug rapidly turned the machine back on, sucking them back into the bag.

She met Chat Blanc’s eyes once last time, his dark form blurring with the shadows in the fading light. They were green now, his eyes. She stayed like that for a moment, her gaze matching his, scanning, praying. 

Then, she blinked.

“This isn’t over,” she hissed as she turned and ran towards her yoyo.

“My dear lady,” he called after her, “I guarantee it.”


	3. The Origins of Ladybug and Chat Blanc Pt. 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bit of a calmer chapter than the others, but they can't always be fighting. I honestly didn't mean for this to be any sort of rewrite, but looks like I'm amending quite a few things after all, I'll have to update the tags lol  
> As always I'm open to constructive criticism surrounding my writing--I'm a tad worried about this slower chapter, I'm taking a few risks regarding changing canon and character beats. But do try to be generous, I am still a bit new to this, and it was fun to create.  
> Enjoy!

As Ladybug sprinted away from him, Chat Blanc cataclysmed the ground beneath him, falling into the sewer tunnel he had known lain buried below. The pain he felt as he fell yet another story was intense, and he curled on the filthy floor of the sewer walkway, half wishing for death.

Above him, the Eiffel creaked and moaned more than before; he had damaged the foundation of the north pillar by blowing a hole in the ground right next to it. Of course, it almost certainly wouldn’t fall right away this way, but it forced Ladybug to use her reparative ability immediately—she wouldn’t take the risk. He had seen her eyes, her determination. He knew she was like him. She wouldn’t endanger anyone over something as insignificant as his escape.

He only had to wait another agonizing few seconds before a wave of sparkling magical ladybugs flew over him. They gleamed, flying through the hole above him, repairing the damage he had caused like nothing had happened. They softly touched him, lightly brushing over his wounded side, a brief feathery presence. The sensation was warm and comforting, unlike anything he’d ever felt before—except, perhaps, his mother’s arms…

He closed his eyes. He’d saved Ladybug’s life. He prioritized her over his mother, and he’d lost the miraculous because of it. It would have been so easy to just pick them up from her lifeless—

No. 

NO. 

He wasn’t going to trade one life for another, even that of his enemy’s. He wasn’t going to kill anyone.

He stood up. The hole he had made in the ground above him was now fully sealed, but it wouldn’t take too long for Ladybug to figure out where he had gone. He had to go.

His body and suit fully repaired, he sprinted down the tunnel with superhuman speed, the magic of the black cat coursing through him as powerful as it had during the start of the fight. All of the stories, the research he had done, they were all true; Ladybug’s reparative ability was miraculous. 

But he knew that it couldn’t solve everything. 

Sewer hatches zoomed by, tunnel after tunnel passing, blurred, as he ran forward. He could hear echoes, shouts of pursuers and the heavy steps of their quick paces following his own. He took several  
turns--left and right, down, left and up again—over and over again, until the only thing he could hear anymore was the sound of his heavy breathing and his heart beating in his chest. The only sound except for--

His ring beeped frantically as it had been for a while—he’d blocked it out—but as he de-transformed he came skidding to a stop, his heightened stamina gone and all the exhaustion of the fight washing over him at once. Ladybug’s power aside, he was exhausted.

“Hey kid,” his kwami said, flying from his hand to greet him with lackluster charm.

“One second Plagg,” Adrien said, “let me grab you some cheese.” 

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a particularly large piece, tossing it toward the floating figure.

“Thanks,” the kwami said somberly. He hovered silently a few feet away, whiskers drooping.

Adrien looked at him. “I’ve read about your connection to the ladybug kwami.” 

Plagg didn’t return his gaze. 

“I’m sorry to make you fight her, but you know why I’ve got to do this, right?”

“Sure kid,” the kwami muttered through bits of cheese, “sure.”

Adrien reached out to comfort him but stopped. Nothing he was prepared to do could help Plagg in any way that mattered. And sure, he felt bad about making the kwami fight against his long-time companion, but he had no choice, his mother depended on him. 

He sighed. Somehow, he had thought, this would all be a lot easier. Sure, he had known that Ladybug wouldn’t give up her miraculous without resistance, but he hadn’t realized how hard it was to stand face to face with another person, so sure that what you’re doing is right, only to have that person actively work to stop you. And the worst thing was, she had seemed so righteous, so self-assured, it was…disconcerting. He knew that he was in the right, that the ends he was working towards were justifiable and good. But the fire in her eyes… 

Adrien placed a hand to where his wound had been. While Plagg continued eating, Adrien pulled up his shirt, looking at the spot where he had been bleeding out until a few minutes earlier. It had healed, but a distinct white scar ran the length of where the gash had been. Proof that the ladybug miraculous alone couldn’t fix everything. He’d known that already, of course. But how convenient would it have been if he’d arrived home and his mother was miraculously healed just from that?

He shook his head, banishing the sad smile that had taken over his lips and turning back to his kwami. 

“Plagg,” he said, the true weight of his situation sinking into him, “we’ve got to keep running, Ladybug and the feds won’t be far behind us.”

No kidding. He’d just blown up the Eiffel Tower. The EIFFEL TOWER, blown up, BY HIM. He knew he was in the right, but damn he understood how it didn’t look that way.

“Yeah,” Plagg grumpily agreed, “you sure have made quite a few powerful enemies. But you’re going to have to wait because I’m not done with my cheese yet.” 

Adrien suspected the kwami might be stalling, but he didn’t push the issue. He’d worked him so hard today, after all, fighting against someone who--well. Adrien didn’t fully understand the connection between the two kwamis. The books he had read were ancient and worn and focused more on the miraculous wielders’ ability than the lives of their kwamis. But he knew that they were both very old and had been together for longer than he could even imagine.

“Alright,” he decided, staying put long enough for Plagg to finish eating. 

It was the very least he could do.

***

“Let me make this promise to you, no matter who wants to harm you, Ladybug, Carapace, and Rena Rouge will do everything in our power to keep you safe!”

After she had repaired the tower, she had turned to see that Chat Blanc had vanished, and a police officer on a megaphone had addressed her and frantically asked her about her intentions. She’d made a short speech but knew she couldn’t stick around for much longer, her eyes on the approaching military forces creeping towards her with caution and a multitude of various heavy weapons. She knew it would be a while before she earned their trust.

Ladybug saluted the approaching troops and then swung away on her yoyo haphazardly, still getting the hang of the odd motion it took to drive her through the air on the magical cord. She swung through the dark, cloudy sky off in the direction she had seen Carapace take Rena and flew over several alarmed officers and curious civilians before landing in an area largely vacant, ducking into an alleyway to de-transform.

Her kwami flew from her earrings.

“Marinette you were amazing!” she exclaimed supportively, “you took to the role very well, I’m quite proud.”

“Thanks Tikki,” she responded, suddenly tired. It turned out that superheroing was hard work, and now that the magic and adrenaline was fading, she suddenly realized how exhausted she was. 

She pulled a couple cookies out of her bag. “You said you liked these, right Tikki?”

“Thank you, Marinette,” she said, diving for the sugary treats.

Marinette watched her kwami eat, and she noticed a bit of apprehension on the small creature’s face. Tikki had tried so hard to be encouraging, but Marinette remembered the way the kwami had looked upset at the prospect of fighting the Black Cat’s kwami.

“Tikki,” she started, “The Black Cat kwami, um, are you really ok with fighting him? He seems to mean a lot to you.”

Tikki looked up from her cookie, a far off look in her eyes.

“Marinette—”

“Hey girl!” A voice sounded from behind her, and an orange blur jumped down in front of her, landing silently on the worn cobblestone.

“Alya!” Marinette cried, a rush of relief flooding through her, “you’re alright!”

“Shhh girl, I’m Rena Rouge right now” her friend looked around frantically, scanning for anyone who might’ve overheard. Seeing no one, she continued. “But yeah, I’m totally healed now. I think I have you to thank for that, a bunch of sparkling ladybugs flew out of nowhere and healed the gash in my leg right up--left a nasty scar though.”

“That’s amazing!” Marinette said, surprised. She had known that her power could repair damage to buildings, but she was glad to confirm that it could heal people too. Which meant that…

“We need to find Chat Blanc,” she said, suddenly serious again. She remembered the speed at which he’d moved when he was fighting her. At that similar, fully functional rate, he could already have gotten a good distance away, and she didn’t even know where he’d went. 

“Where’s Carapace?” Ladybug asked urgently, “we need to regroup and track down Blanc quick before he can get away.”

“After he got me to safety and we de-transformed,” Rena explained, “we fed our kwamis with some trail mix I had in my bag and he went back to see if he could help you. My leg was still banged up and I couldn’t so much as stand up, so he had to leave me behind.”

Her voice was tinged with regret and she clenched her fists at her sides. 

She put on a cheerful face however, as she turned back to Marinette with a tense but encouraging smile, “Being sidelined gave me time to get a lot of great footage of the fight, though. Girl, you were amazing!” 

Her eyes fell again, making contact with the aged cobblestone down below. “Yeah, you were pretty great. Carapace got there too late, you had already handled everything. He didn’t come back here though, the idiot, I’ve been in contact with him, he’s following Blanc.” She segmented off a piece of her flute to reveal a phone screen. “He went silent after going underground.”

“Underground?” Marinette asked. She slapped her forehead. “Of course,” she hissed, “that structural damage to the tower’s base, he went into the sewers!”

“Exactly.” Rena confirmed. “Anyway, my communicator can still reach him—thank you, magic Wi-Fi—but he’s not talking so as not to run the risk of Blanc detecting him. But,” she said, showing Marinette the screen, “we can still follow him.” A small, flashing dot appeared on a map on the screen.

“Alya, you’re a genius!”

She smiled somberly, a look of concern spreading across her features. “Thanks girl, but we’ve really got to hurry. From what I saw of your fight with Blanc, I’m worried about Nino’s chances out there alone.”  
Marinette nodded. “His power really is better built for a more open, team-up scenario.”

“Exactly,” Rena hissed, clenching her fists. She shuddered a bit, her look of apprehension deepening. “I should’ve been the one to follow Blanc, injury be damned. With my power, I could’ve snuck up on him, I could’ve—”

“No,” Marinette interrupted, “Alya, you did what you could. Right now,” she looked back at Carapace’s locater, “we’ve got to find him before Blanc does.”

***

The turtle hero was horrible at stealth, Chat Blanc easily evaded him as the green clutz crashed through the tunnels, trying and failing to track him down. Blanc contemplated bringing the tunnel down on Carapace, just to shut him up, but that would give away his location to the two other heroes he knew were not doubt tracking them from above. And, Blanc admitted to himself, he didn’t want to injure the hero if his shield timed out before his friends could arrive. 

Blanc ran past a service entrance, stopped, and circled back to it. He looked at the locator on his collapsed staff’s phone screen; he was nowhere close to where he wanted to be. But, he thought as he heard Carapace approaching, he was pretty far past the police barricade by now, and slipping out into civilian form would probably do more to get his pursuer off his trail than anything else would.

He vaulted up to the entrance and cautiously opened the hatch, looking out onto an empty alleyway lit by the glow of the rising moon. In the distance, he could see the warning lights and silhouettes of military and reporting helicopters still swarming around the Eiffel Tower, now optimistically lit up in its daily evening light show, shining through a rapidly thickening bank of dark clouds. 

Adrien bounded silently out of the sewer and closed the hatch behind him, taking a deep breath. He waited a minute, crouched behind a trash can, until he was sure that the green hero had passed him by. De-transforming, he straightened out his shirt and pulled out another piece of cheese.

“Geez kid,” his kwami said critically, “you smell terrible. I mean, I don’t mind, but…”

Adrien rolled his eyes, smiling. “Are you sure what you smell isn’t this?” he said, waving the Camembert through the air.

Plagg zoomed over and grabbed the cheese in a blur, munching as he retorted, “yes I’m sure, you smell like a sewer.”

“Well that does make sense,” Adrien muttered as he pulled out his regular phone, placing a call.

“Natalie,” he said as he started walking away from the alley, Plagg trailing closely after him “I need a pickup.” 

He gave out the address from a nearby street sign, avoiding nearby walkers as to not attract attention over his apparent stench. There weren’t many people outside, what with the whole Eiffel Tower debacle and the growing cover of storm clouds. Still, he had to cross the street twice in order to avoid a couple of half-panicked foot-traffickers. They had walked quickly, one rushing from a building to a nearby car, the other frantically cutting through a nearby park towards an awaiting motorcycle, nearly falling into a public fountain in his desperation to keep his eyes towards the Eiffel, still buzzing with the aftermath of the chaos. Other than that, it had been silent, eerily so. Adrien had never seen it quiet, so empty, not even from the windows of his isolated bedroom. What he had done had really shaken everybody up.

He went to hang up when Natalie spoke.

“Adrien,” she said, sounding as concerned as he’d ever heard her despite her emotionless, monotone intonation, “are you alright?”

In that long, empty moment, Adrien felt all the exhaustion of the day set in at once, and he stumbled in his footing, slouching to lean against a nearby building. He’d battled three superheroes, transformed twice, shot off more cataclysms than he could count, and then lost against—well, he wasn’t exactly sure what Ladybug was to him. A nemesis, maybe? He frowned. Did nemesises save each other’s lives? And if she was a superhero, what did that make him? He didn’t know, and at the moment he was far to tired to bother thinking about it. He sighed, exhausted.

“Adrien?” Natalie asked again, still waiting for an answer.

“I’m fine,” he finally said, “how is my father?”

“Resting,” she replied, “I’ll be there with the car to pick you up in around twenty minutes. Be careful.”

The call ended, and Adrien placed his phone back into his pocket. 

The sky was darkening, clouds covering the moon as a cool wind pushed them, every growing, across the night sky. Adrien leaned against a lamppost just outside a small bakery, closing for the night, the scent of freshly baked bread still in the air. 

His stomach growled, and he was reminded anew of his exhaustion. His thoughts, however, quickly left that of his own well-being and traveled to that of his father’s. Natalie had said that he was just resting, but Adrien knew that his father had to be just as if not even more exhausted than him, after having to power two akuma through a superpowered fight. Adrien remembered how he had shot cataclysms left and right without much of a thought for where all that power came from. When speaking to him, his father had said that he was fine, but Adrien wasn’t so certain.

“Your father isn’t coming to get you himself?” Plagg asked from where he had hidden in Adrien’s shirt pocket. Adrien sighed.

“He’s probably really tired right now,” Adrien explained, “All things considered, he really did a lot more work than either of us, we just channeled the power that he produced. And besides…” He glanced aside, eyes wandering, unfocused over the lit windows of the bakery, trailing off. “We’re close, but...”

A slight pat on his chest.

“I get it kid,” Plagg said, moving his small paw as he settled into place, “I get it.”

***

“I’m so sorry dudes,” Carapace exclaimed shaking his head, “by the time I got down there, he was already so far ahead of me I couldn’t catch up.”

Rena Rouge sighed, but Ladybug wasn’t surprised.

“It’s alright Nino,” she said kindly, patting his shoulder, “we know you did what you could. It’s been a long day, and we’re all tired. Besides, I’m the one who failed to stop him in the first place.”

“Yeah,” Carapace started again, “but I—”

“No buts,” Rena interjected, “I don’t even think you should have followed him in the first place. What if he had cornered you? He’s violent, dangerous--he shot us out of the sky not a half an hour ago! You could’ve lost your miraculous or…”

She trailed off, taking his hand. 

The two made eye contact for a long while, Rena fearful and Carapace sorrowful, both looking to the other, sharing comfort. A single raindrop splashed onto Carapace’s face, and Rena reached to wipe it off, her hand briefly brushing his check. Ladybug could swear he was blushing. 

A raindrop then fell into Rena’s eye, and the spell was broken, Rena rubbing her face in frustration. She then huffed and punched Carapace lightly in the shoulder. 

“Just…be more careful next time, idiot.” She turned away. He reached after he, but she suddenly stiffened.

“Oh god,” she said, fumbling over her suit’s pockets, “I’ve been dodging calls from my mother all evening, she’s gonna be worried sick, if not totally pissed.”

Ladybug and Carapace snapped to attention.

“Holy crap dude,” Carapace cried in turn, “my mom’s gonna kill me for not calling her!”

Alya found her phone and began to turn it on when Ladybug snatched it out of her hand.

“No, no she’s not,” she said, halting them, “because our phones are dead.”

“What?” Carapace said, “dude, mine’s still like sixty percent full.”

“Oh no,” Rena said, catching on, smirking. “We were too busy running for our lives, we didn’t notice how much filming the attack drained our batteries until our phones all died right at the same time!” She turned to Carapace, a fake pout on her lips--“isn’t that horrible luck?”

Carapace’s masked scrunched. “Yeah, but I didn’t film—”

“I’ll send my recording to you,” Rena promised, taking her phone back from Ladybug.

Ladybug smiled. “At any rate,” she continued, “it was a great thing we all got lost together, that way we can each confirm to each other’s parents what happened.”

“Ugh dudes,” Carapace said, “I get what we’re going for here, but I am so not the best liar.”

Rena nudged him playfully in the ribs. “Don’t worry you big green wonder, I’ll walk you home and explain it to your parents for you. You know, we could actually just say you got turned into a stone monster, it might be simpler…” 

Rena squinted at him, formulating a new cover story as Carapace nodded, a wide smile spreading across his face as he gazed at her. Something then seemed to occur to him, and he looked back at Ladybug.

“Marinette,” he asked, “do you think you’ll be ok to get home without us?”

Ladybug smirked. “Nino,” she said, “I just saved Paris from a real live supervillain. I appreciate the concern, but I think I’ll be alright for tonight.”

He chuckled, rubbing his neck. “Yeah, that makes sense.”

“See you tomorrow at school!” Rena exclaimed, hugging her before taking off with Carapace, leaping away across the rooftops.

“Be careful,” Ladybug called after them, “the shingles are getting pretty slick!”

Indeed, rain had started to poor down around her, a final curtain to her long and tiring day. It was a good thing that she lived close by--the suit she wore was pretty tough, but, as it turned out, not waterproof.

Ladybug launched herself across the rooftops as she leapt towards her home, going the opposite direction from Rena and Carapace. She nearly slipped twice on the slippery shingles and crashed into a chimney on a particularly perilous stumble, but she managed not to slip off the rooftops until she purposely dropped down onto the street about a block away from her house. 

Looking around to make sure no one was nearby, Ladybug dropped her transformation and rushed home, the scent of her father’s fresh bread not yet washed away by the rain.

***

Adrien was still slumped under the meager awning of the bakery, failing to stay dry, when a girl rushed past him in a blur, nearly bowling him over. The girl gave a cry of alarm, stumbling back, defensive. Upon seeing his hunched form she seemed to right herself, stopping in front of him and holding out her hand.

“Hey,” she said, concerned, “Are you alright?”

Adrien met her gaze and saw a drenched, familiar face—black hair, blue eyes, a kind smile.

A flash of recognition crossed the girl’s features, and that smile faltered.

“You’re Chloe’s friend,” she said, hand half recoiling.

“Yes,” Adrien sighed, “although I’m starting to get the impression that she’s not all that popular.”

“Yeah…you could say that.” The girl—Marinette--frowned. “You put gum on my seat.”

His eyes knit together sorrowfully. 

“No I didn’t,” he explained, “I was trying to get it off your seat. Chloe…” he sighed, “Chloe’s not the nicest person. She’s just the only one I know.” He shrank a bit. “I’ve never been to a real school before, I’ve never really had friends. It’s all sort of…new to me.” He shrugged apologetically. “I’m sorry if I…hurt you, in any way.”

His gaze remained met with hers, soft and steady. Her eyes were blue, deep and pure, and he suddenly became aware that he really loved the color, though he couldn’t quite place his finger on why that was the case. 

In the dim light, her face seemed to redden, though he supposed he could easily be mistaken.

“Would you—that is—did you, uh, maybe you—” she stuttered, gesturing him towards the bakery door.

“Oh, um, I…got displaced due to the akuma attack,” he said, trying to find a reason as to why he’d be outside alone at night. “I had no idea this place was yours,” he said, turning, looking at the building again through a new light.

He saw her nod vigorously through the corner of his eye, thankfully not questioning his flimsy sounding yet entirely honest excuse as he looked through the windows of the bakery. 

The place was small, but tidy, and he could feel the warmth and life the building exuded just by placing his hands against the windows. Looking at the rows of pastries on display, he felt his stomach growl for a second time and he heard Marinette stifle a giggle next to him. He was about to accept her offer of shelter when his phone buzzed in his pocket.

Taking it out and glancing at it, he shot a sorrowful smile her way. 

“Thanks,” he said, “but my ride will arrive any minute, and I wouldn’t want them to miss me.” He chuckled. “Besides,” he said, “I’m already soaked, so I might as well stay out here.”

“Yeah,” she mumbled, “that uh, that makes sense.”

She then quickly darted inside, the door swinging shut after her. 

He couldn’t condemn her hurry, it was pouring rain, after all. 

His stomach growled again.

He turned around, leaning back against the bakery’s ornate paneling, as far under the awning as he could shrink. The rain was picking up, and each drop sunk into his skin with a cold, damp feeling so very contrary to the heated adrenaline he had been breathing like air for what had seemed like days. He looked at the water on the street, streaming through the grooves in between cobblestones, rushing purposefully downhill, towards inset gutters and flooded potholes. It was odd, nearly hypnotizing, watching the swirling liquid ever moving towards a dark and unknown destination. Falling, rushing…  
Behind him, he heard the door crash back open, and he spun to meet Marinette again, who was struggling with one of two objects held lopsided in her fumbling hands. Suddenly, one of the objects sprang forward, and Adrien jumped back, letting the thing fall into the street.

“Oh my sorry,” Marinette tripped over her words, “I’m so goodness—I mean sorry—I mean--” she continued to stammer as Adrien reached over and grabbed the object before it could float away down the shallow river in the street’s gutter. It was a broad black umbrella, and with a heft he picked it up, turning back towards her.

“That’s for you!” she finally said, breathing a bit easier. “You don’t want to come inside but you definitely shouldn’t be wet, you might get sick and that would be really bad.”

He chuckled, and her hands fidgeted around the second object in her hands subconsciously as she blushed, probably embarrassed over how she’d nearly hit him with the umbrella. 

“Thanks,” he said simply, and stepped back towards her, intending to help to shelter her under the umbrella as well.

She started forward, but then seemed to pause a second, sniffing the air suspiciously. 

“You—” she looked at him, confused. “You kinda stink.”

“Oh!” Adrien exclaimed, his mind rushing to fabricate a convincing cover-up, “I was one of the civilians turned into a stone monster.”

A strange look passed over Marinette’s face, and she turned away, her visage unreadable.

“Yeah,” he continued, afraid she didn’t believe him, “I don’t remember anything from that time, but when I came to, my foot was stuck in a gutter on the side of the road. I was honestly lucky not to have twisted it, but it reeked when I pulled it out.” He chuckled awkwardly. “One good thing about this rain is that it’ll probably make it go away pretty soon—the smell, not my foot.”

He turned away sharply, uncomfortable. He really didn’t like lying, especially to someone who had been so nice to him. It was wrong, and it sunk into his skin deeper than even the damp and the cold, and the pit that had formed in his stomach earlier opened back up, eating away at him. It was wrong to lie, and it was hard on him, but he reminded himself of his end goal. Surely someone as kind as Marinette would understand, if she were to know.

He looked back at her, her face downcast and her eyes focused on the street below.

“I’m sorry,” she said solemnly, a tone of depth and empathy in her voice that made the feeling in his gut twist unbearably.

“Hey,” he said, smiling, minimizing the scenario, “It was alright. I’m fine now, and that’s what really matters.”

The look on Marinette’s face didn’t go away. 

“This time,” she started, “but what about—”

BEEEEP

He turned, and across the street he saw Natalie waving from his father’s sleek, silver limo, where she apparently had been trying desperately to grab his attention without getting wet, finally resorting to blasting the horn.

Adrien looked once more at Marinette.

“I’ve got to go now,” he smiled apologetically. He started to hand the umbrella to her, but she pushed it back into his hands.

“Keep it,” she said, “you can get it back to me tomorrow at school.”

He nodded, and began to walk towards Natalie, taking care to step over the now several inch-deep rush of water that had formed along the side of the street. 

“Wait!” a call from behind him caused him to turn back, and an object was thrust quickly into his hands.

“For the road,” Marinette explained, “You ah, seemed hungry.”

She then spun around and rushed back into the bakery, where he saw two more figures, her parents, he assumed, meet her in the lobby. They all hugged for a long moment, before walking into a back room. Before she disappeared though, Marinette turned around and gave him a quick wave.

Adrien smiled and waved back, only moving after hearing another call from Natalie. 

Natalie opened the passenger door for him from the driver’s seat and he climbed in, shaking out the umbrella and placing Marinette’s gift on his lap. He saw that they were the only ones in the car, and assumed that his bodyguard had been left behind because he didn’t know about the miraculous and Adrien’s father’s plan, and because his father—in the bad shape he no doubt was--probably needed more defending than him or Natalie.

“Who was that?” Natalie asked calmly as she began to drive off towards the Agreste mansion. 

“Just someone from school I happened to run into,” he explained simply.

“You’re sure she wasn’t following you?” Natalie asked, her raised eyebrow betraying her usually imperceptible worry. 

“Of course,” Adrien said, “she’s just a friend.”

The slightest of blushes ran over his cheeks and he smiled. A friend…

He pulled out the gift she had given him—a paper bag, bunched up and slightly damp. He opened it and found two croissants. They were a bit smushed, but still delicious as he discovered upon biting into the first’s soft, flakey dough.

“Adrien,” Natalie chided, “you know that your father doesn’t like crumbs in the car—”

She stopped as Plagg zoomed out of Adrien’s pocket and began to munch on the second croissant, seemingly consigning herself to the mess that the kwami would no doubt make.

Adrien smiled softly.

He broke his croissant in half and held part of it out for Natalie. Her eyes flitted over it for a moment, considering, before she hesitantly reached out and took it.


	4. Second Encounter Pt. 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay in publication! Finals stole all of my time from me  
> This one's a bit of a slower episode, but now that the inciting action is over I had to do a bit of *reasonable* yet wordy lore twisting in order to have this canon divergence make sense. Like, coming up with a reason for why Master Fu wouldn't just tell team Ladybug who Chat is--I really tried not to rely too much on a vague 'because magic' answer but I'll let ya'll be the judges of how well I pulled that off.  
> Regardless, dealing with the aftermath of the inciting action was interesting, and I like to hope that I laid down the seeds for some good character arcs, but who knows  
> As always, feel free to point out all my faults in the comments, after my finals it's not like I need any self-esteem anyway lol. Seriously tho, I'd be happy to learn if anyone's got something to say.

Adrien’s bodyguard met him at the entrance to his father’s enormous mansion, holding open the door for him and Nathalie as they rushed in from the rain. He paused only for a second as Nathalie insisted on taking his soaked over-shirt before allowing the bodyguard to lead him into his father’s office.

His father rested on a large lounge chair in the far corner of the room, a hand over his face as he seemed to melt into the fabric beneath him. He could see that his father’s neck was flushed and his hair was out of place—the most disheveled Adrien had seen him since the night of his mother’s…

“Father?” Adrien asked, concerned as he stepped into the cool room

“Dim the lights a bit more,” he motioned towards the bodyguard, who complied as he exited the room silently, the indoor lamps flickering feebly as they became outshone by the simple streetlights outside the broad windows.

A loud sigh was heard as his father sat up, wincing a bit as his hand shifted on his forehead.

“Adrien,” he intoned, his stoic presence disrupted by the slightest of tremors, “are you injured? I can have a private doctor here within a few minutes, Nathalie said—”

“I’m fine, father.” Adrien sat down in the chair next to his father’s seat, grabbing his unoccupied hand. His father squinted back at him through his fingers, wincing at the little light that still shone.

“Forgive me,” his father said, “today’s excessive use of my powers seemed to have given me a rather persistent migraine. But you’re sure that you’re unharmed?”

“Of course.”

The room lapsed into silence. Adrien fidgeted in his seat as his father breathed slowly. He became acutely aware of the otherwise imperceptible buzz of the dimmed lighting fixtures as the soundless clock on his father’s computer shifted from one moment to the next. There was no ticking, the numbers on the display shifting suddenly without warning and the silence stretched on. 

The silence. 

Adrien nearly choked on it.

“Father, I—”

“You failed.” The words cut deeper than he’d anticipated, and he looked towards the spotless tile floor.

“Father I’m so sorry, I—”

“No,” his father interrupted him. He seemed to regress further into his chair at the word. “This was my plan, and I am your father. I am just as to blame in our failure.”

Adrien looked back at him. His father’s hand still covered his face, but his voice seemed somewhat clearer, closer to its usual cold cadence.

“We underestimated our opposition,” his father continued, “and I overestimated our fortitude—our abilities were taxed far beyond what I had anticipated.”

A shiver coursed down his spine. Adrien remembered how he’d shot off blast after blast at the police, using his father’s power without much thought to all the energy he was expending. His father had said that he was fine, but that obviously wasn’t the case. 

Adrien clenched his fist, a sense of guilt washing pulling at him as he gritted his teeth.

“Next time father, I promise to be more careful with how I use our power,” Adrien said, “I’ll save it more, not use it except for when I absolutely have to, I—”

“No,” his father stopped him, looking out from between his fingers with a dagger like gaze. “You use your power as much as it takes to retrieve the miraculouses, to stay safe. It is I who has to become stronger.” He sighed, closing his eyes once more. “Though I do recognize that you could benefit from more combat training. Your battle with the ladybug wielder…left much to be desired. I’ve asked Nathalie to look into gyms and martial art instructors in the area—expect at least two more hours on top of your regular schedule.”

Adrien shrank back a bit, knowing his father wasn’t wrong about his failure. He hadn’t brought it up, but his father had to have noticed how Adrien had been pulling punches, there was no doubt--especially not after Adrien had saved Ladybug. That simple fact hung between them like a silent weight. His father wouldn’t outwardly condemn him, he was sure, but he wondered what his father would have done in his place. Would he have…?

He looked back at his father, clutching his forehead in pain. 

He couldn’t think about that now.

Adrien desperately tried to direct his thoughts elsewhere. A frantic thought--“What about my homework, father? I do need some time to do that.”

“Homework?” his father passed, then continued, “ah yes that school. Have you found anything useful yet?”

Breathing the briefest sigh of relief at the change of subject, Adrien filled in his father on how his plan in the school was proceeding. “Principal Damocles does have the books on ancient superheroes we’ve been looking for,” Adrien explained, “we were right about him storing most of them in the library, though there are a couple in his office. But they’re all restricted, held in alarmed cases because they’re so old and valuable—there’s no way that I could get to them without being noticed one way or another.” He paused. “He has let students look at them in the past, but I think it’ll take more time for me to convince him to let me; I’ve only been at the school for a day.”

“That’s understandable,” his father said, “though with the level of opposition we’re facing now, I believe it’s worth reconsidering the risk of simply stealing them—”

The door to the office opened, allowing the slightest sliver of light to enter as Nathalie’s figure appeared. She held a simple teacup and saucer on a tray in her hands.

“Sir,” she said in their direction, “your tea is ready.”

A long sigh left his father’s lips, and he spoke in a slow, tired tone once again. 

“Nathalie,” he said, “set the tea down on my desk and escort my son to his room. He’s had a long day; he needs his rest.”

“Of course, sir.”

Adrien rose off the seat and stepped towards the door as Nathalie placed the steaming cup next to his father’s computer. She seemed to pause for a moment, glancing in the direction of his father’s hunched figure for a lingering moment before walking back towards Adrien.

“Come along now Adrien,” she said simply as she passed him by.

He started to follow after her, then reached the door and paused.

“Goodnight father,” he called behind him, closing the door. His father raised a slow hand in response, and Adrien stepped away, following after Nathalie.

***

“What was so important that you had to call me over on our day off?” Marinette complained as Alya pulled her into her family’s apartment. The girl in question shoot eye daggers at her through think rimmed glasses then glanced over at her parents with the slightest bit of alarm.

“Miss Bustiar’s last minute extra credit group assignment, remember?” she nearly hissed as they rushed towards her room, “remember the email we got—‘no better way to recover from such a frightening attack than to band together’ or something like that.”

“Oh yeah,” Marinette recalled her and Nino’s cover story, “group assignment, bringing us together even though school was cancelled because of the supervillain attack. That Ms. Bustiar, always knowing just how to cheer us all up!” She chuckled nervously as they reached Alya’s room, shutting the door securely behind them.

“But for real though,” she said once the door was closed, “we couldn’t come up with anything more convincing than last minute extra credit?”

Alya placed a hand against her face. “Well it was this one’s idea in the first place,” she said, gesturing to where Nino lounged on her bedroom floor, “I’d assumed he’d have a plan besides a sudden ‘we need to talk’ but apparently…” she trailed off, shooting him a glare.

Marinette directed her attention at Nino too, who feigned being hurt at Alya’s words, a hand placed in mock injury over his heart.

“She has a point,” Marinette said simply, meeting his gaze “why are meeting, Nino? I get that school was cancelled and you wanted to talk to us about the whole superhero thing, but couldn’t we have just called each other?”

“Well we could,” Nino said, “but it’s not really me who needed to talk to you dudes.”

He opened his jacket a bit, and a bright green kwami came soaring out, a soft sparkle following behind him. 

“Greetings,” the kwami said, bowing politely in the air, “I am the kwami Wayzz.”

“Wayzz!” The green kwami was tackled by an orange blur that flew out from beneath Alya’s bed in a flash of light.

Tikki too flew out from Marinette’s bag, and began to excitedly talk to the other two kwami—the orange one being Alya’s excitable fox kwami Trixx.

As they caught up, Marinette and Alya circled over to sit next to Nino on a throw rug at the base of Alya’s bed.

“Your kwami has something important to tell us?” Marinette asked, looking at Nino curiously.

“Yeah,” Nino confirmed, “but apparently the little dude can’t appear over camera so we all had to meet together in person.”

Alya grunted. “I get that,” she said, “But my younger sisters got turned to stone yesterday.” She looked towards the floor. “They were fine, but may parents were pretty frightened at the end of it all--they need time to recover.” She glanced back at Nino. “Why’d you insist on my house?

Marinette saw a flush of color rush over Nino’s cheeks as he glanced away quickly. “Well dudes I, ah, thought ‘cause you know we saw my house yesterday when we, you know, walked home together that maybe we could maybe totally see your house next but like no pressure it’s fine my dudes really.”

Alya met Marinette’s eyes, her eyebrow raising from its previous somber position as she desperately suppressed a smirk. “Yeah,” she glanced back at Nino, “‘no pressure’ my butt, you’re already here, it’s not like I’m going to kick you out.”

Marinette heard a faint ‘oh thank God’ from Nino’s direction as Alya looked back at her, finally grinning with an amused smile as she leaned back casually.

Marinette raised her eyebrow, tilting her head in a silent question. Alya rolled her eyes and waved her hand a bit, betrayed by the slightest color of blush appearing on her cheeks.

Marinette shot her friend a deadpan look, allowing just the slightest smile to trace across her lips. The meaning was clear--‘we will be talking about this later.’ Alya just chuckled a little, nerves poking through her nonchalant disguise, then turned back to Nino.

“So,” she said, clearing her throat and changing the subject, “your kwami, we should ask him what’s up.”

“Yeah!” Nino said a bit too excitedly, “we totally should. Wayzz!” he called, and the kwamis broke apart, all three returning to rest on or next to their wielders.

“Master,” the green one said, hovering in front of Nino. A glance from Nino and the kwami smiled a bit. “Just ‘Nino,’” he corrected, “my apologies.” He turned to face the rest of the group, smile fading. "I have news relating to the nature of the black cat miraculous.”

All three heroes jumped to attention, Trixx nearly flying from his perch on Alya’s shoulder as she shot forward.

“You know who he is?” she asked in a burst of sound, “why didn’t you tell us before? Who is he, where can we find him, what—”

“No,” Wayzz said apologetically. He squinted the slightest bit, reconsidering. “Well,” he corrected, “I do know the wielder of the black cat’s identity, but I am regrettably unable to tell you.”

“Why?” Marinette asked, concerned, “is something wrong?”

Wayzz started again, “well—”

“What are you hiding this from us?” Alya asked suddenly, “people could have died—we need to know everything we can.”

“Wayzz, dude…” Nino trailed off as the green kwami squinted his eyes in annoyance. They all grew silent. Crossing his tiny arms, Wayzz continued.

“I’ll explain,” he said, “provided that none of you interrupt me further with questions until after I have concluded.”

All three humans nodded in agreement, the other two kwami already silent. Wayzz floated over to Alya’s bed and perched in a sitting position upon its cover, Marinette and the others turning to face him.

“As you all know,” the kwami started, “I am Wayzz, kwami of protection. What you do not know is that before I belonged to young Nino here, my user was the guardian of all miraculouses, a human with a magical tie to the miraculouses and to the universe itself. He is the one who gave Ladybug and Chat Blanc their charms and, due to an ancient spell preventing me from exposing the identities of miraculous wielders, he is the only one who can tell you who possesses the black cat.”

Alya started to open her mouth and Wayzz shot her a glare, silencing her. 

“However,” he continued, “upon receiving the black cat ring, the wielder seems to have made the critical choice to break away from its power’s intended purpose, to devastating results.” He paused, somber. “See, not only do the black cat ring and the ladybug earrings represent forces of destruction and creation, they are also conduits for such forces’ manifestations, and are thus tied into the very fabric of the universe. Destruction and creation are meant to be in balance--it is the will of the universe. But when the black cat wielder chose to rebel against this order, seeking to possess the power of the ladybug rather than work alongside it, he caused…unforeseen consequences. All of your powers are somewhat weaker than wielders in the past, for example. You all may not realize it, but your strength and invulnerability are not what they historically should have been. Also…”

Wayzz looked down, sadness brewing in his small eyes.

“My previous master, the guardian known as Fu, is currently in a coma at a local hospital. He is stable, but I doubt he will be able to awake any time soon. His old age and failing health combined with his taxing connection to the miraculouses and to the universe left him vulnerable to the strongest effects of the black cat’s choice. He…” Wayzz trailed off for a minute. “The last thing he did as he began to collapse was order me to enlist heroes to aid Ladybug, so I did. I hated leaving his side, but without him, I am the best guide you three have.”

Trixx sniffed indignantly at the statement, but Marinette saw Tikki nod lightly in agreement as both kwami sobered significantly from their previous boisterous mood. She, Alya and Nino on the other hand sat stunned for a moment longer, processing.

“Dude…” Nino trailed.

“So,” Alya summed up, “this Guardian was our best chance at answers, but now he’s out of the picture.”

Wayzz nodded gravely. “I am afraid so. There is, however, another matter we must attend to.”

“The miracle box,” Tikki breathed softly, “it must be protected.”

“Correct,” Wayzz agreed simply.

“The miracle box?” Marinette asked.

Wayzz turned to her. “The container in which the other miraculouses are stored, in which the black cat, ladybug, and fox charms had lain until these past few days. It must be kept safe.”

“Wait,” Alya said, “there are more miraculous? Why weren’t they deployed with Trixx’s and yours? Can we use—”

“No.” Wayzz interjected simply. “To deploy more miraculouses without oversight is not something that I, a simply kwami, have the authority to do outside of the emergency instructions Master gave me. Besides,” his face fell, “I’m not sure what effect deploying more kwami will have on Master’s health, I…”

“It’s ok little dude,” Nino said, giving the kwami a soft pat on the head, “we can do it without the others. Right guys?” He looked back at Alya and Marinette, concern and resolve painted across his features.

Alya looked skeptical and cautious, but Marinette spoke up quickly, softly. “Of course,” she said, “we won’t let it come to that. We’ll get stronger, right Al?”

“Totally,” Alya finally agreed, though Marinette could tell that she wasn’t entirely convinced. Marinette knew that Alya had a point, and as she saw her friend clutch at the leg that blood had been flowing from not a day earlier, she knew that it would take a lot more to sway her.

“Your sister!” Marinette said suddenly, a plan formulating in her mind, “Nora, she’s a competitive kickboxer, right? Maybe she’d be willing to help train us after school.”

Alya seemed to relax a bit at the suggestion. She chuckled. “Oh definitely, she’s been trying to get me to pick up a martial art for years. She’s going to be thrilled, and I’m sure she won’t mind teaching you two as well.” She sighed a bit rolling her eyes, “though now she’s gonna think that I caved, that she was right all along. Geez she’s gonna be so annoying about it.”

“It will be worth it,” Wayzz agreed. “Though, what we must do right away is retrieve the miracle box from Master’s apartment”

“That’s right,” Marinette agreed, standing up. “We should probably get right on that, protecting the other charms and keeping them from Blanc and Hawkmoth has to be a priority.”

“You’re right girl,” Alya agreed, Nino rising beside her.

“Wayzz,” Marinette said resolutely, “lead the way.”

***

Adrien was sick of the news.

School was out, so he was at home. Alone. 

He’d practiced his piano, completed his Chinese lesson, finished his homework, re-organized his CD collection, and agonized over more hours of news coverage of yesterday’s fight than he cared to admit. 

Adrien watched over and over as news anchors commentated on how he leveled buildings with the wave of a hand, playing blurry footage caught forever on the cameras of startled reporters and stubborn civilians. There was plenty of talk about the other wielders, sure, and about how the magical ladybugs had mended everything and everyone in what was ironically yet quite appropriately dubbed a ‘miracle.’ But as Adrien watched a clip filmed by a young boy watching his home turn to shrapnel, Adrien couldn’t help but fixate on all that he had done wrong. 

He had put so many people in danger—the lack of casualties WAS a miracle. And for what? In the end, he had failed.

The news on the muted TV in front of him flashed to yet another picture of her. The media’s current darling, the red spotted ‘hero,’ Ladybug.

A still frame of her smiling confidently, addressing the crowd of onlookers with strength and charisma—he was suddenly pulled back to their encounter. She had been so good at hiding her worry, he realized. He knew what false bravado looked like, and now that he thought back to it, that was what she had had when facing him—nothing but doubt hidden behind a figure of confidence and a dazzling smirk. 

Then again, he imagined that he had looked much the same.

She had been so good at putting on a confident face, right up until…

He winced in pain, clutching where the tower’s shrapnel had sliced open his side. 

He had chosen to save her, save her when he could have so easily won, so easily have taken the earrings, taken back his mother…

He couldn’t think about that. He couldn’t think about either of them. 

His scarred side seemed to ache with phantom pain as he tried to break his gaze away from the TV screen, but they were locked, fixed on Ladybug. Her eyes were blue, such a deep blue.

A thought occurred to him, seemingly out of nowhere, and his eyes mercifully shot away, toward his bedroom wall, where a simple black umbrella leaned against a self. He hadn’t been able to return Marinette’s umbrella. She had said to return it at school, but school had been canceled—did she need it back today? Would she hate him if he didn’t give it back to her right away? She was his first real friend, if he couldn’t, if he didn’t--

Suddenly, the walls of his room seemed to close in around him, and he shot up from his bed, stumbling towards the umbrella.

He could always go return it now, he knew where she lived. There was no way that his father would let him leave, but he had the power to do it on his own, he could go as Chat—

Adrien stalled a foot away from the wall. 

Returning it now would be suspicious for him to do, especially if he were to arrive alone at Marinette’s home without any indication of how he had gotten there. He stepped back towards his bed. It was stupid, he was just a bit panicky, he was totally fine, he knew it. He knew it…

The walls continued to loom around him, closer now, and he paused once more in frantic consideration. 

He couldn’t stay here, with the mute TV blaring and the large empty walls with the alphabetical CDs and the leaning umbrella. He needed to run, to get out and breathe.

He looked down at his hand, tense and clenched, straining against the pale white form of his dormant miraculous.

He needed to breathe, and thankfully, he had the power to do so. Maybe going to the home of someone who could be tied back to him would be a bad idea, but just going for a walk could be fun. As Chat, he could do whatever he wanted to do.

He looked out his giant windows and saw the skyline begin to darken for the night. Aside from three lonely meals, he had been cooped in his room all day. 

“Plagg!” he called, and his kwami flew out from within the shelf where the camembert was stored, yawning.

“What’s up kid?” he asked drowsily, rubbing his eyes.

Adrian walked over to his window and cracked it open, a cool, clear breeze filtering into his room. “We’re going out.”

Plagg stretched in midair, another yawn escaping from his tiny mouth. “Are you sure about this, after yesterday’s fiasco, you know you’re not the most popular at the moment—" he stopped. As their eyes met, Adrien saw an odd look cross over the kwami’s face, a look of recognition and something else--something deeper. Sadder, almost.

The kwami sighed. 

“Well,” he finally said, a positive lilt cutting through his previous somber tone, “aside from our fun little adventure yesterday, I haven’t been out in ages. So many new sights, new smells, hey! Do you think that they’ve made new types of cheese in these past decades? I sure love camembert, but I’m an equal opportunist, you know?”

Plagg flew closer to Adrien, peering out the massive windows with ancient eyes.

“Yep,” the kwami said, “so many things come and go, but cheese is always cheese.”

Adrien smiled softly, raising his hand to cradle the tiny creature.

“Hey,” he said simply, “I’ll get you some more cheese. My father brought some back from an exhibition in the Netherlands once—gouda, I think it was called. I can have some here by tomorrow.” The kwami looked back at him, their matching green eyes meeting. Through their bond, Adrien could feel sympathy, a sort of empathy. On a deeper level, perhaps, a shared sense of isolation, worn and tired.

Plagg patted his hand with a tiny black paw. “Ok then kid, let’s go out.”

Adrien took a deep, clear breath. “Plagg, claws out.”

***

“You know, when Wayzz said we could walk to Master Fu’s place, I really thought it would be less than, I don’t know, eight miles away?”

Wayzz chuckled in response to Marinette within Nino’s jacket. “You young ones have so many convenient conventions, but if you want to be prepared for the battles ahead then you’re going to have to be able to go on a simple walk.”

“Dude!” Nino said, exasperated, “We’ve been walking for hours! The sun’s starting to go down!

“It’s not my fault you two are so slow,” Wayzz’s muffled voice continued, “magic will only go so far to aid your physical condition, you have to be willing to put in the work.”

Marinette rolled her eyes. They had been walking since leaving Alya’s house in the afternoon, heading towards Master Fu’s apartment in order to retrieve the miracle box. Her feet ached, her cute pink slip-on shoes not at all made for hours of walking.

Marinette sighed. “At least Alya doesn’t have to deal with this.”

“Yeah,” Nino agreed, “though it’s a real bummer that her parents don’t want her going out for a bit ‘cause of the attack, it’s gonna be harder for her to slip out when Blanc strikes again.”

“Yeah, but I do get it,” Marinette said, “her sisters got turned to stone, her parents must have been terrified.” She glanced back at Nino. A coy smile spread across her face. She cleared her throat and leaned towards him.

“Sooooooooo” she said, the slightest skip entering her step, “speaking of Alya…”

A layer of red blossomed across Nino’s face.

He coughed, stammering. “Wh-what do you mean my dude?” He looked away, hiding his increasingly reddening face. 

“Wellll,” Marinette prodded him in the ribs, “what do you think about her?”

“She’s really pretty, COOL! Pretty cool! She’s pretty cool, yep. I uh, like her style. It’s cool.”

“Just her style?” Marinette asked, mischievously, “nothing else?”

He coughed again, nearly tripping for a second. “What else d-do you mean?” he stammered as he righted himself and kept walking, “She’s cool and smart and uh nice and um…yeah.”

“Oh,” Marinette said, feigning disappointment, “That’s a real pity, because earlier when just the two of us were chatting, she had a bit more to say about you…”

“WhAT,” he squeaked awkwardly, “What did she say?!”

“We’ve arrived.”

They both jumped back at the Wayzz’s voice, stalling in front of a simple apartment building that looked just like any other of the hundreds they’d past that day. The green kwami zoomed out of Nino’s pocket and through the front door of the building, unlocking it from the inside and pushing it ajar.

“Well!” Marinette exclaimed, “as Wayzz’s wielder, you’d better be the one to go get the box, Nino. I’ll keep watch outside, just on the off chance this is a trap of some sort.”

“Wait!” Nino cried as Marinette pushed him through the door, “what did she say? What did she—”

Marinette shut the door after him and nearly dropped to the sidewalk in tears. That poor, sweet boy. Yes, her and Alya were going to have a good long talk.

“Ahh.” She caught her breath. 

Leaning against the door, she looked out at the sky. The sun was all but gone by now, just a few lingering purple tones on the horizon the only indication of its existence. Off in the distance, she could just barely see the top of the Eiffel Tower, not yet illuminated for the night. 

The tower…

In a flash, she remembered the past twenty-four hours of her life, nearly collapsing back onto the concrete. Twenty-four hours ago, she had been fighting for her life. She had been fighting, for her life, as a magical superhero. She’d blown up the Eiffel Tower. She’d BLOWN UP the EIFFEL TOWER. 

What was she doing. What was she doing? She’d nearly died. The Eiffel Tower had been blown up. And Alya…

She remembered Alya’s face contorted in pain, remembered how she’d struggled to stand as her leg bled onto the concrete. She remembered how she’d clutched at her leg even after it had been healed, a thin white mark still there, permanent and scarred.

Marinette sat down.

A streetlamp to her left flickered to life, illuminating the buildings around her. 

It hadn’t been her fault. She knew that, of course. But she had let them go alone in the beginning, Nino and Alya. She had been too afraid—no. Not afraid, not really. She knew that, if anything, she’d been afraid of herself—that she’d screw it up. And she had screwed it up, Alya’s scar was a testament to that. And even now, Marinette knew that she was only still alive because of Blanc’s mistake in leaping to save her—or the miraculous or whatever, it didn’t matter. She was only here--Alya was only ok--because her enemy had made a mistake. She’d failed. She was only still here because of luck. And as much as she wanted to believe that her powers made her invincible, she knew they could only stretch so far to cover her inadequacies.

She had to get better. Like Wayzz had said, she was young—still so soft and naïve and totally new to all of this. She had to get stronger. Paris depended on her. Her friends depended on her. She couldn’t afford to fail again. 

Reality returned around her, and she felt the hard concrete beneath her, still warm beneath from the day’s hot August sun. 

The sky was dark now. Nino had been up in the apartment for a few minutes, but she wasn’t surprised. She was sure that Wayzz probably had a lot of memories in that place. And if the box really did need a new protector, then Nino would be the perfect one to teach. She knew that his defensive power would be the most practical in protecting the other miraculouses, and with Wayzz’s history, it just made sense. She would give then a couple more minutes. 

She focused back on the skyline. Above the tops of buildings, she could see the first evening stars start to come out. Not many could be seen through the vast artificial glow that gave the City of Lights its nickname, but Marinette traced those that did make it through with her eyes. She marked the constellations in her mind, picking out the faint stars of Cassiopeia and Draco so far above. 

She took a deep breath, the air filling her lungs and streaming out again in a soothing rush. The last twenty-four hours aside, this was nice. The walk had been long, but Wayzz was right, it made her stronger. And now, city-saving responsibilities aside, she had superpowers, and friends she could share them with. This whole new reality of hers was big, but maybe it wasn’t all that bad. 

She traced the motion of a plane flying overhead, its flashing red signal lights and lazy motion immediately pulling it apart from the rest of the night sky. Her sight followed it until it vanished behind the roof of the building in front of her, disappearing behind a dormant chimney. 

She turned towards the door. 

Whatever Nino and Wayzz were doing, her parents were almost certainly starting to worry at her being out so long. She’d probably have to transform into Ladybug in order to make it home at a reasonable hour… 

A blur from behind the chimneys drew her gaze back to the rooftops.

Marinette froze. 

A dark figure darted across the shingles. It moved with athletic precision and speed that was absolutely uncanny—absolutely superhuman.

An akuma?

No.

A flash in the dark betrayed eyes deep and green, shining. She knew those eyes, seen them once before, twenty-four hours ago, staring up at her with pain and arrogant pride.

Chat Blanc. Alone, without an akuma. 

What was he doing?

A loud sound filled her mind, drum-like and cacophonous. Her heartbeat. 

She glanced down at her hands and found them to be trembling, her blood coursing through them with the ferocity of an animal, an animal with the near overwhelming urge to either run or fight.

Blanc…

What was his game? He was alone—some sort of trap? Would running after him play right into his hands? But she couldn’t do nothing. His power, the damage he could cause, the pain—

He drew away from her as her thoughts raced. In a flash, she realized that she would have no time to get Nino before she lost sight of him. 

But she was still so weak, so young, what could she possibly do? She couldn’t—

She saw the bulging veins in her hand, thin and pale, and Alya’s scar shot through her mind like a gunshot. 

Fight or flight, was there even a choice?

Ducking into the doorway of the building, she activated her transformation with a flash, without time for Tikki to even speak. Racing back outside the moment her magical glow faded, she leapt to the rooftop, adrenaline spiking as magic coursed through her, clear as air.

She shot a text to Nino and bolted across the rooftops, her silent footsteps contrasting against the pounding of her own heart as she raced towards her dark enemy.


	5. Second Encounter Pt. 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm back!  
> Geez guys, sorry I've been gone so long, it's been a hot sec. But ya know. 2020.  
> This was fun though, it was nice to return to this, even after so long. I actually tragically lost this chapter when I first wrote it, over 4,000 words lol, but re-writing it it went in an entirely different direction and I like this one way better so hidden blessings I guess. Not as long as usual tho. Bit more emotional too, sorry, angst warning I guess?   
> idk let me know what ya'll think

After bounding across the roofs and cobblestone streets of dozens of city blocks, Chat Blanc landed inside the famous gardens of the Tuileries, closed for the night and silent. The Louvre towering over him to his left and the Place de la Concorde to his right, an odd, comforting feeling rushed over him. For the first time in a long while, he could feel himself relaxing, surrounded as he was by the imposing museums. 

He walked between century old statues and underneath even older trees, and suddenly, he was cast back to the times his mother had brought him there as a child. A feeling of warmth washed over him as he remembered when he had once sat with his mother on a worn picnic blanket, throwing crumbs to the ducks in the adjacent man-made pond while she sketched landscapes and flowers into a worn leather journal. 

He still had that journal; he looked in it from time to time when he needed comfort. Her sketches of roses would always make him smile. He remembered the dappled lighting on her face from the shade tree above as she declared herself a cliché romantic and fell back on the picnic blanket laughing, confessing to roses being her favorite flowers. 

“You know, your father brought me roses when he first asked me out,” she had told him there, lying on the blanket. He’d lain down beside her, and he remembered her soft gaze on him as she recounted her story. “A whole car full,” she chuckled to herself, “I’d been so silly, he’d been trying to get my attention for months but I never noticed, I’d thought we were just close friends.” Her gaze trailed off as she reminisced. “I suppose in the end it really did take such a large, romantic gesture to catch my attention, I never thought I’d be that kind of girl.” 

She met his eyes again, glowing in the light of the muffled sunlight. “It worked though, he won me over, and roses have been my favorite flowers ever since.” She held his gaze like that for a long moment, then snorted, holding back a peel of laughter. “You owe your life to roses, little man,” she said, reaching forward to plant a boop on his nose... 

The gurgling of water fixtures brought Adrien back to himself and he stopped underneath a tree near next to the pond. The ducks were asleep for the night, no doubt snuggled up together inside whatever dens or nests they used as homes. But there was no mistaking where he was, and he sat down slowly, his back against that ancient tree. This was the spot where they’d always come, to sketch and to breathe. His father had always preferred the Louvre, the paintings providing inspiration and the walls providing ridged structure. But this was the spot where Adrein and his mother had rested. 

He sighed, leaning his head back against the cool bark of the tree, his clawed hands lightly grabbing at the grass beneath him. The dark of the night was only broken by dappled moonlight, and it anchored him back where he was, when he was. Here. 

For the first time in a long while he felt himself relaxing, soothed by the stars and the memories of his mother. 

*** 

What on Earth was he doing? 

Ladybug spied on Chat Blanc from afar, behind a decorative trellis mounted on the Louvre’s roof. He was just. Sitting there? Eyes closed? Mocking her??? 

This was ridiculous, she knew, he was completely exposed, the whole thing had to be some sort of trap. But how did he know she’d come? If he knew he’d passed in front of her civilian form then surely he would have targeted her before she’d powered up. But he’d sent out no taunting messages and he’d been so stealthy that she’d nearly lost him twice when pursuing him over the rooftops. 

She could feel her pulse beating between her hand and the cooling stone banister beneath her palm. Why was he here? What did he want? He’d caused so much destruction just a day ago—what did he plan to do now? 

The world seemed to spin as Marinette’s breath quickened, her cool palm rising to wipe a veneer of sweat from her wrinkled brow. She couldn’t just stay there, she knew, hiding behind the trellis—that plan had failed spectacularly last time, and Alya and Nino had gotten hurt... 

She slid to sit on the roof, heartbeat continuing to thunder, her back to the cool stone of the banister. 

What was she doing? Why was she here? Tikki had said that she was chosen but she certainly didn’t feel that way. Right now, all she felt was an acute sense of panic and the hard presence of roofing shingles beneath her. 

She tried to slow her breathing, pawing at the ancient, worn shingles. Those shingles. Simple, silly, but also the thing right there, in the moment, that felt most real. How long had those shingles been there, she wondered. Since the monarchs of old? Or had they been recently replaced? 

She could feel her breathing slow, though it still far outpaced what she knew was healthy. The cold of the stone fell away as she turned around to peer over the trellis once more. Chat Blanc hadn’t moved, his still form remained seated, restful, beneath the tree by the pond. 

What was she doing? 

She was hunting Chat Blanc. 

Why was she here? 

She had followed Chat Blanc and was now observing him. 

There were much bigger questions that prompted, no, demanded acknowledgement, but not now. She couldn’t...she didn’t... 

“Ughh,” she audibly cringed, crouching and clutching at her arms, she didn’t have time for this—this melodrama. 

Heartrate still elevated, she stood and leapt stealthily to the next sheltered rooftop, closer, her eyes ever cast towards her dark target. 

*** 

Adrien startled from his rest, his eyes darting towards a nearby bush. Had he heard a noise? His ears perked up as he slowly grabbed his staff at his side, his muscles suddenly primed to spring into action if need be. 

This wasn’t a very defensible spot, he realized, beneath his memory’s tree, and someone could easily—another rustle. 

His eyes narrowed. He shifted, placed one palm on the ground, prepared to propel himself forward at the slightest-- 

A duckling waddled out of the bushes, a soft, barely audible quack along with it. It shuffled in an adorable, lopsided gait over to his leg where it fluffed its feathers and looked up at him expectantly with large eyes. 

Adrien laughed. He threw back his head and laughed long and full, stopping and picking up the duckling after a minute or so. 

“Sorry little guy,” he murmured, “I don’t have any crumbs for you.” His nose wrinkled. “Unless you like stinky cheese.” 

Perhaps he’d fed this duckling’s parents before, when he’d come with his mother. The thought brought back his previous air of nostalgia, and a sharp pain made its way back into his chest. 

But the duckling simply looked up at him with wide, dewy eyes and let out another faint quack, barely more than a peep, settling into his cupped hands like a nest. Adrien shifted his gloved thumb and began to stroke the duckling’s head, its downy fluff still somehow perceptible through his gloved hand. So small, so soft. 

“Huh,” Adrien mumbled contentedly, gazing at the little duck in his hands. “I wonder what your name--” 

Another, larger rustle—and before Adrien could move his body was surrounded by yoyo cord, trapped against the tree behind him as Ladybug strode into view. 

“What?” he asked incredulously, “what are you doing here?” 

She snorted, stopping a few feet in front of him, her hand tight around her yoyo cord. “Sorry Chat Blanc, but I really don’t think that you’re the one in the position to be asking questions.” She shifted, her strong figure fully illuminated in the moonlight. 

“My lady,” he pealed back in retort, his eyes narrowing as he grinned, a show of confidence as he began to look for an escape strategy. “You know,” he continued, voice smooth, “without an akuma I’m just Chat Noir, Chat Blanc doesn’t really describe the look.” 

Ladybug rolled her eyes, hand on her hip. “Yeah,” she said, “I’m not going to give you a new nickname every time you change your outfit, Blanc.” 

Chat shrugged, shifting against his bonds. “My bad,” he said, “I guess I figured that any good Parisian would have an eye for fashion, but I suppose that considering your gaudy polka-dots it was a dumb mistake.” 

He watched amused as her jaw dropped at his comment, and she stammered indignantly. “Well pardon me,” she finally said, “if I don’t take fashion advice from a criminal who thinks that his fursona is an appropriate alter-ego!” 

“Th-that’s purr-posterous,” he stuttered, taken aback. He had nothing against furries but surely Plagg didn’t make him one, right? 

He grasped at a witty comeback to Ladybug’s jab, but was interrupted by the quacking of one mildly distressed duckling that was now trapped against his chest. His arms had been forced there when the yoyo had tied him to the tree, and the duckling was now loudly protesting their confinement. He saw Ladybug squint at the noise, and he welcomed the distraction. 

“Hold that thought, my lady,” he said as he shifted against the tree, freeing up enough space to open his palms. The duckling waddled indignantly in his hands, fluffing itself up and cheeping in protest. 

“That’s a duckling.” Ladybug said incredulously. 

Chat snorted. “Quite purr-ceptive.” 

Ladybug’s face contorted in confusion. “Your evil plan to trap me and steal my earring involves a duckling?” 

Chat Noir opened his mouth, then closed it again. 

“I’m not?” he started, “Trying to trap you?” 

Ladybug raised a single eyebrow, “ah yes, so yesterday, when you blew up the Eiffel Tower trying to get to the earrings, that was just a fluke then? And you’ve just given up on all your plans and are just...” she gestured wildly, “...sitting around petting ducks??” 

Chat huffed, a smile forming on his lips. He wasn’t sure why, but seeing Ladybug flustered stirred something inside of him. Taking in her face, scrunched and worried, she was almost...cute. But she was right, he had a job to do. His prior shifting to make room for the duckling had created slack in the cord around his arms, he just needed to buy a bit more time... 

He chuckled, all bravado. “Hey now,” he pouted, “petting ducklings is very important.” 

“Stop with your joking Chat Blanc,” her eyes narrowed, her voice frigid. “You’ve hurt too many people to not take this seriously, it’s...wrong.” 

Her stance was stiff, wired. Chat Blanc could see the power in her form, her resolve. He had ended up hurting some people, true, and he could see how it looked bad, how it affected her. She...really didn’t like him. He swallowed a growing sick feeling in his stomach with a wink in her direction. 

“Well, bugaboo, you’re the one tying down a guy in skin-tight leather, so by all appearances--” 

“Oh just shut up!” Her open hand rubbed the bridge between her eyes. “I can’t believe this, this...” she grasped her forehead and stared at him with a piercing gaze. In her eyes, he could see so much, so much emotion; frustration, sadness, rage, exhilaration, so many things at war and in flux--he wished that he could reach out and touch her, just in wonder of how she didn’t implode. But her eyes meant something else to him, beneath that tree. It seemed odd, irrational almost. But...there, lit by the moon and by the dim glow of lampposts, he was suddenly he was struck by the impression that they looked a great deal like his mother’s. 

Those eyes bored into his very soul. 

“You...” he whispered, stopped. 

She spoke. 

“Just what kind of supervillain are you?” 

That’s what they’d been calling him since yesterday, he’d heard it before. A supervillain. That’s what he was to Paris. He knew. But somehow, to hear it from her... 

His blood ran still. 

A villain. He was a villain. 

That sickening feeling deep in his get returned. 

She wasn’t wrong. She wasn’t wrong and that terrified him. 

A leaf fell onto his lap from above, from the tree of his childhood. His eyes traced its thin outline, lit hauntingly in the moonlight. This tree... 

He shooed the duckling from his hands and it stumbled down off him. It waddled back into the bushes it came from, casting one long look behind it before quacking and disappearing. 

“What kind of supervillain am I, my lady?” He shifted once more, hand connecting with the cool bark of the tree behind him. He smiled sadly. 

“You’re about to find out.” 

*** 

She hadn’t seen the Cataclysm coming, his summoning shout immediately followed by the tree behind him turning to ash, his athletic form bounding forward in a flash to slam into her. In just a moment, she felt herself hit the ground, Blanc’s weight pressing down on top of her, his hands brushing at her ears. Their eyes met for a split second, and Ladybug could see in his sharp green gaze a resolve far greater than her own. 

Her breath caught in her throat. 

“...You’re not doing this for yourself.” 

It wasn’t a question, and it left her lips barely more than a whisper. 

He paused. 

She slammed her legs into his stomach, sending him flying over her head and into the pond just behind her. She deployed her yoyo as a din of splashes sounded behind her and was flung unceremoniously to the roof of the Place de la Concorde, her feet hitting the shingles running. 

That moment their eyes had met, when she’d said what she’d said... 

He held so much within him, she could see it, so much pain, and power--it was a wonder that he didn’t explode... 

She heard the metallic sliding of his staff behind her as she swung and leapt over the rooftops. She cast a glance over her shoulder and saw him propelling himself with his staff, which extended to truly ridiculous lengths to shoot him forward. Nevertheless, she knew that her yoyo gave her the advantage in speed and mobility, and she began to widen the distance between him as she ran away. 

Those eyes. Call her a coward or weak, but what she’d seen in those eyes... 

She couldn’t win against a person with nothing left to lose. Not as weak as she was, not as unsure. 

So she ran.


	6. Preparation, Consolidation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Geez my upload schedule is crap ik I'm sorry, my sister got the 'rona and I'm a chronic procrastinator, idk I have no real excuse, enjoy tho

“A piece of footage taken from security cameras outside the Louvre shows what some believe to be Chat Blanc, Paris’s newest supervillain, running past the south entrance. While there is some speculation, museum officials are taking steps to increase security and screening checkpoints within the museum and the surrounding grounds, and would like to assure the public--” 

His father shut off the TV, returning to his plate in silence. His cool, controlled figure sat straight and composed, the fork and knife in his thin, aging hands demurely picked away at a breakfast omelet. Across the table, Adrien shrank further into his chair. 

“Father, I--” 

“I thought that we decided that there is no need to discuss this further,” his father coolly interjected. 

Adrien fiddled with his fork. “I only meant to--” 

A slam of utensils onto the smooth, pale table and Adrien stopped, his eyes looking up from where they had hid behind his glass. His father looked up from his meal, his gaze piercing. “Your little joyride last night was ill-conceived and dangerous,” He said, his voice edged with metal. “You could’ve been trailed back to the mansion or captured, and after all the energy I expended at the Eiffel tower I doubt that I could have granted enough power to an akuma to come get you for at least a day.” 

His eyes narrowed, and Adrien slouched further into his seat. 

“What you did last night was unparallelly reckless, and it is a miracle that Ladybug was more interested in small talk than in taking your miraculous, or you would have...” his father stopped. He folded his napkin and placed it on the table, then pushed his chair back and stood up. 

Stepping away from his seat, he turned to Adrien once more. “Your bodyguard will drive you to school, and he will drive you directly back here after.” 

Adrien sat up. “But what about the books--” 

“You will have time,” his father interjected, “to look into your principle’s superhero books when I am sure that no one tracked you last night. Until that time, you are to become to very model of restraint and self-discipline. Is that clear?” 

“Yes father,” Adrien intoned. 

With a sharp nod, his father turned and walked towards the door. His expensive, finely tailored shoes echoed as they hit the floor, their booming patters slowing somewhat as he neared the exit. Adrien watched as his father hesitated, then stopped. His aged, pale hand gripped the doorframe, and Adrien was suddenly struck by how frail it looked, how fragile. 

Adrien wasn’t the only one affected by this. 

“I...” his father started, voice quieter, more hesitant than before. Adrien saw his father’s eyes glance back at him, then cast to the floor. 

His father cleared his throat. “You know that I--” 

“Sir,” Nathalie walked into the room, then hesitated, seeing the two. “Was I interrupting something?” 

“No,” his father said flatly, his eyes snapping back into focus “carry on.” 

Nathalie adjusted her glasses. “It’s time for Adrien to leave for school,” she explained simply. 

“Of course, see to that.” His father gave a sharp nod and then swept out of the room without another word. Adrien’s eyes followed his father’s silhouette as he glided away, his shoulders slumping, composure fading with each step, before he vanished into another doorway. 

Nathalie turned to Adrien and gestured to the door. Swallowing the ever-present lump in his throat, he stood up with a sigh, grabbing his backpack from where it sat at the foot of his chair. Walking towards the door, he made to turn off the decorative dining room light when Nathalie held a hand to stop him. 

“Aren’t you forgetting something?” she asked him, a single refined eyebrow arched on her otherwise emotionless face. 

Adrien stopped for a moment, then sighed again. “Plagg!” he called out, “we’re going!” Meeting Nathalie’s eye he thought he could see a hint of something—disappointment, perhaps—but he hadn’t really forgotten. From what his father had said, Adrien had thought that maybe he could have a day where he didn’t need to use Plagg’s power. He thought that maybe he could give his kwami a day off, leave for school without anyone noticing and leave Plagg behind unawares with a nice big platter of cheese. Adrien knew the poor thing deserved it. 

“Geez kid,” Plagg said, flying through the wall from the kitchen into Adrien’s shirt pocket, “you didn’t think you were going to leave me behind, did ya? 

Adrien nearly blushed at how accurate that was. Sometimes he swore Plagg could read his mind... 

“Oh,” Nathalie interrupted his train of thought, her voice containing just a bit more restrained emotion, “I didn’t realize you’d left Plagg too.” Seeing Adrien’s questioning face, she explained, “I’d meant your breakfast,” she gestured back towards the table, “don’t you want to eat a bit more of it?” 

Looking back at the table, Adrien realized how much he’d left on the plate, and a twinge of guilt shook him. How hard had the chef worked on that food, only to have it go uneaten? 

Adrien walked back and grabbed an uneaten croissant off his plate. He wasn’t too hungry—he chalked it up to nerves over the previous night’s actions—but it would still be rude not to eat a bit more. Besides, he realized as he shoved the pastry into his backpack, next to Marinette’s borrowed umbrella, he did rather like croissants. He wasn’t sure why, but over the past few days they’d almost become a comfort food. 

“You know,” Nathalie said as they walked outside to where the family bodyguard sat waiting with the car, “your father was quite worried about you last night.” 

Adrien looked away. “I know Nathalie,” he said quietly, “but I already got the lecture from him, I know I’m to come straight home after school.” 

“Of course,” she agreed quickly, “but...next time, you know, just be careful. Your close call with Ladybug, it...scared him.” She cleared her throat as they reached the car, and straightened her blouse. He watched as she opened the door for him, and as he climbed inside she said simply, “Have a good day, Adrien. Be safe.” 

*** 

“I still can’t believe you would fight you-know-who without me,” Alya exclaimed, leaning back in her chair. Marinette sat next to her in the nearly empty classroom, school not yet started for the day. They had agreed to meet early to go over in person the conflict from the previous night, but so far, it only Alya and she had arrived. 

At the mention of last night’s confrontation, Marinette felt unease rise in her again like water building behind a dam. The meeting, the fight, the realization—she shivered, once again, in dread. She couldn’t beat him, not as she was. 

She glanced back at Alya and remembered the people of Paris she was sworn to protect—she couldn’t let them see her doubt. 

She had to become better, stronger—but for now she had to comfort her friend. 

“I know, I know,” Marinette explained pushing her feelings away with nonchalant bravado, “but by the time I met up with Nino he was already long gone, we didn’t see the need to bother you.” 

A cloud covered Alya’s eyes. “You should have still called me, even if he had already vanished.” Marinette saw her friend’s hands clench on her desk as she continued. Her voice grew pained. 

“Do you know how many times the twins woke up in the middle of the night crying, terrified because they’d had dreams about being turned back into stone monsters?” Marinette stilled at her words. 

“It was at least five times,” Alya went on, “I lost track. In the end, they both just ended up sleeping in my bed. Let me fall back to sleep quicker than when I had to wake up and comfort them.” 

“But your parents--” Marinette started. 

“They had yesterday night’s shift.” Alya said simply, “they can’t look after them every night. With Nora moved out, I’m the oldest, you know? I’ve got to be the big sister; someone they can go to when they need help.” 

“Yeah,” Marinette said somberly. “I don’t understand everything, but I get the feeling of responsibility.” She shook her head, fists clenched. “Our families, the whole of Paris on our sholders.” 

“Our sholders,” Alya said with emphasis, reaching out to lay her warm hand on Marinette’s shoulder soothingly, “we’ve got to remember that we’ve got each other, right?” 

“Right." Marinette smiled, “I’ve got your back.” She considered her words and conceded. “I promise not to leave you behind again.” 

Ayla chuckled. “It’s a deal then.” Marinette could still see a cloud behind her friend’s eyes, but Alya brightened considerably as she moved on. “Now only if our lovely turtle-man could hurry it up,” she parsed, “our trifecta will be complete. 

“About that,” Marinette said, elbowing her friend, “what’s going on between you and Nino?” 

Alya blushed, suddenly clearing her throat. “There’s nothing really to talk about girl, really. I mean, sure there’s a bit of like...something there, you know, but like, he saved my life the other day, I’m sure that’s totally normal.” 

“Right,” Marinette intoned sarcastically. “So yesterday, when we were all chilling in your room, and you looked like you were going to combust, that was what, seasonal allergies?” 

Alya opened her mouth to protest but was suddenly saved by the opening of the classroom door and Alix entered, followed by Kim and a few other students. 

Marinette leaned over to Alya as their classmates filed in, a smug look on her face. “This conversation will be continued,” she said with a grin. Alya sighed, her forehead in her hand and a faint smile on her lips. 

Finally, Nino entered the room, and Alya pre-occupied herself with a piece of lint on Marinette’s sleeve. But, Marinette realized, their hat-wearing DJ wasn’t alone. In conversation with him entered Adrien, and Marinette was suddenly cast back to just two days ago, when she’d found him outside her bakery after the supervillain attack, hungry and soaking wet. She remembered his apology over her misunderstanding, and his kind eyes as she’d handed him-- 

“Marinette!” he said, suddenly in front of her, “thanks again for letting me use this the other day.” He held out her black umbrella and she gingerly reached forward to take it, a warm feeling sweeping over her. 

She swallowed nervously “I-uh, well, that is to say I mean, ah, thank you!” 

He nodded kindly at her then waved as he went back to take his seat. 

“We should hang out some time,” he called back to her, sliding into his desk, and something inside of her nearly combusted. 

“Girl,” Alya said, hand shaking her shoulder, “who’s practically combusting now?” 

Marinette blinked once. Twice. Then, with an undignified squeak, she covered her face with her hands in sudden realization. “wHat, I’m not, nope nu-uh that can’t be right, I-I-I-- 

Thankfully, Mrs. Bustiar walked in, and Marinette made of show of attentively listening to her welcome, even as Alya prodded her mercilessly. Finally, Alya relented, instead saying simply in her ear, “girl, like you said, this conversation will be continued.” 

Marinette buried her face further in her hands. 

*** 

During lunch, Adrien walked over to the library. It was well-furnished for a high school, even for a more well-funded one like the Collège Françoise Dupont. The shelves were all old, hand hewn wood, obtained from the first principal’s own private library some decades ago when the school had first been established. Even though the school was now officially public, that founding family still held a lot of sway. In fact-- 

Adrin entered the library and spied a broad case of books covered in glass placed against the far wall. He walked over it and read the plaque hanging on the wall to the right of the case. “Volumes courtesy of the Damocles family.” 

Plagg shifted within his jacket pocket as he approached the case, peaking his head out and gazing at the books within with wide eyes. 

Contained within the case were several ancient tomes on a variety of subjects, most of which had been passed down through the Damocles family for generations. History, Botany, even simple city concordances from ages past, the variety was wide. But Adrien knew what he was looking for, and narrowed in on a selection of books near the front of the case. There were several more recent ones—perhaps only a century old—on the immortal Knightowl, but those held no interest to Adrien. Instead, he focused on a worn leather tome with an intricate Asian geometric design on the cover, a muted red-ish brown color tarnished by age. The knotted pattern marking the cover was the same as the crest on the documents and books that his father had recovered years ago about the miraculous. 

He addressed his kwami.“And you’re sure that you can’t just tell me what’s within this book?” 

Plagg remained still for a moment, transfixed by the tome. Ear twitching, finally, he looked up at Adrien and gave him the same answer he’d given when Adrien had asked him before. 

“Sorry kid, I couldn’t even read it, back when the old wielders had it.” the kwami shrugged apologetically, his little shoulders rising adorably. “Besides,” he continued, “you and me, we’re not...” he slowed, then trailed off. He broke eye contact, shifting uncomfortably. 

Adrien knew. He and Plagg, as bound as they were, were not on the same side. Even if the kwami knew something more than he let on, Adrien knew that he would never tell. And Adrien couldn’t find it in him to resent Plagg for that, not after everything that Adrien had done. 

He patted Plagg lightly on the head, scratching lightly between his ears for a moment before the kwami ducked back into his pocket. 

Adrien looked back towards the book. 

Adrein placed his hand on the glass case above the book. There were answers in there, answers to questions he didn’t yet know to ask. His father had said that this old volume could hold the cypher needed to translate some of the other ancient writings he’d uncovered, or perhaps even new secrets all on its own. All Adrien knew was that it could hold more information about how to wield the power that could save his mother, and his hand clenched over the glass in response. 

He’d gotten no closer to getting Damocles to let him look at the book. Sure, it had only been a couple days, but as he thought back to the previous night, his oh so close call with Ladybug, he felt a sudden wave of impatience take over him. Maybe his father had been right before, maybe they should just steal-- 

“Hey dude,” a familiar voice called out behind him, “I’ve been looking everywhere for you, lunch is almost over.” 

Adrien turned and found his new friend, Nino, standing in the library’s entrance. 

“Come on man,” his friend continued, “lunch is an important time to make some pals and get to know the vibe around here, as the new kid you’ve gotta show up.” Nino began walking back towards him and the case and Adrien felt a sudden urge to conceal the book he’d been looking at. He rushed forward. 

“Sorry man,” he said, grabbing Nino’s arm and turning him towards the exit, “you’re totally, right, I just was worried about finding resources for Ms. Mendeleiev's assignment,” he walked them both towards the door. “When she gave us such a big one out of the blue earlier today I was super stressed, you know?” He knew that there was no way that Nino knew about the miraculous seal, but nevertheless he remembered his father’s warning about miraculous activities being traced back to him. He didn’t think that Nino was the suspicious type, but it wouldn’t hurt to be cautious. 

Besides, he thought to himself, he didn’t want to do anything to put his new friend in harm’s way. 

Nino laughed and punched him lightly on the arm. “Dude that assignment was so chill, you’ve got nothing to worry about. Besides,” he said as they walked towards the cafeteria, “if you’re really worried about it, you can come study with me. I might not be the best student, but my Chemistry grades aren’t all that bad.” 

Adrien smiled. “Thanks Nino, but I have to go home right away after school today, Father's still pretty shaken up over the supervillain attack.” Not technically a lie, but still enough to cause guilt to gnaw at his stomach. 

Nino shrugged as they entered the cafeteria. “Today wouldn’t have been cool for me anyway dude,” he apologized, “I’m going to be going to the gym after school.” 

“You work out?” Adrien asked, surprised, then slightly embarrassed. “Not that I’m shocked or anything, you just never mentioned--” 

“Ah, no man,” Nino said, rubbing the back of his neck, “this is a new thing, just a bit of self-defense after the supervillain attack. A few of us from school are going. No biggie, I swear.” 

Adrien looked away, the guilty gnawing in his stomach returning. The supervillain attack. 

“I...” he trailed off, eyes askance. 

“Adri-kins!” a piercing voice called from across the cafeteria, and Adrien looked over to where Chloe was waving furiously from a dining table, Sabrina to her left and an empty chair to her right. “I saved you a seat Adri-kins!” 

Adrien welcomed the excuse to leave and patted Nino on the back. 

“Chloe’s calling me, I guess I’ll talk to you more tomorrow,” he said, moving to walk away. 

Nino looked a little disappointed—and Adrien hated that he made him feel that way—but he waved, calling after him, “see you later then dude!” 

Adrien waved back. “See you later.” 

*** 

“So,” Marinette said, her eyes traveling up the worn concrete exterior of Alya’s sister’s gym, “kickboxing, huh.” 

“Yup,” Alya said, walking with Nino to where Marinette stood in front of the glass door entrance. “You guys better work hard, Nora’ll be messing with me for weeks now that I’ve finally given in and am letting her train me.” 

Marinette scanned the simple, non-descript building with her eyes. It was plain and industrial, with a sign reading Aso’s Gym above the doorway. While the first story seemed from the outside to be rather lofty, there still appeared to be apartments above the main gym area, as evidenced by an empty flower box and a rickety balcony a good few meters up the side of the building. 

As Marinette watched, a large yellow flash stopped by the flowerboxed window and waved out to them, Alya returning the gesture with a begrudging smile. 

“Nora,” she explained as the figure left the window, “Come on, we’d better not keep her waiting, she’ll beat us down to the gym and make us do extra push-ups or something.” 

“She lives above the gym?” Nino asked as they entered through the door. 

“Yup,” Alya confirmed, “her girlfriend owns the place. Real sappy story actually, them meeting, you can ask her about it if she ever gets too rough on you and she’ll be too busy stuttering to give you anymore grief.” 

As her friend chuckled to herself, Marinette looked around at the inside of the building. Lit by flickering, yet warm artificial light, she could see walls of similar concrete construction as the exterior, covered in colorful, decorative graffiti and worn, mismatched shelves sporting various trophies and awards. Beams stretching around the walls of the gym hung various punching bags and other workout machines that Marinette didn’t recognize, with more familiar contraptions like ellipticals and treadmills against the back wall. She found her eyes drawn to the middle of the floor though, where a boxing ring sat, elevated a few feet off the ground and almost larger than life. 

Marinette followed Alya as she walked over to a front desk by the door, an eyebrow raised as she saw it to be empty. Her friend paused for a moment, hands on her hips, before a thundering noise could be heard and a door next to the desk burst open. Marinette only caught a glimpse of a staircase before a tall, muscular woman flew through the doorway and enveloped Alya in a crushing hug. 

Alya sputtered indignantly, previous composure gone, and Marinette couldn’t help but laugh. 

“Nora!” her friend exclaimed as she was lifted into the air by her sister—an Amazonian, from what Marinette could tell. 

“Ayla!” Nora responded in a booming voice, a smile stretched across her face. She squeezed Alya one more time before gently setting her down, merriment in her eyes. “Remember when you said that you wouldn’t be caught dead walking in here again?” 

Her friend wrinkled her nose. “That was when this place smelled like feet, sis, it’s fine now.” 

Nora threw her head back a laughed with booming sincerity. “Damn straight!” she exclaimed, “scrubbed this place from top to bottom myself just last week, I don’t know how Crooky managed before I came along.” 

Alya snorted. “Probably pretty well considering you can’t even properly manage the front desk.” 

“Hey!” Nora said, her brow furrowing, “I take my job here very seriously, I just ran upstairs real quick to grab you lightweights something.” Reaching behind her, Nora pulled out a handful of what looked like yellow scraps of fabric, handing one to each of them. Holding hers up, Marinette saw that she had actually been given a headband, yellow with a black spider carefully embroidered onto the front, matching the design on Nora’s sporty crop-top. 

Running her fingers over the meticulous stitching, Marinette looked back to Nora. “Did you make these?” she asked, marveling at the craftsmanship. 

“Naw that was all Crooky,” Nora responded, “I’m not really an artsy type, that stuff’s all on her.” 

“Speaking of Charolette, where is she?” Alya asked as Nora began to lead the three of them over towards a punching bag, “I haven’t seen her since, what, the twin’s birthday?” 

Nora lightly swatted Alya on the arm, making her jump. “Well maybe if you stopped by more often you’d be able to see each other more!” Nora chuckled. “She’s off painting the interior for some fancy restaurant, she’s been taking a lot more odd artsy jobs lately.” Marinette saw her look askance for a moment. “I support her and all, but the gym’s doing fine, we don’t need the money, she’s been away a bit more than usual...” 

Alya swatted her sister on the arm. “Whaaaat,” she said, smirking, “is the mighty Anansi feeling lonely without her girlfriend?” 

Nora chuckled, an air of solemness in her voice quickly covered by a competitive fire as the group reached the first of many punching bags lining the wall. Changing the subject, she turned to the rest of them and lightly patted the sand-filled bag, stating, “who cares about that when I get to train the three of you lightweights?” 

At the look in her eye, Marinette gulped in nervous anticipation. Swallowing her nerves, she stepped forward and addressed Nora. 

“So,” she stated, tying her new sweatband around her forehead, “where do we start?” 

“That’s the spirit!” Nora said, lightly grabbing her arm and pulling her in front of bag. Marinette yelped, suddenly a great deal less confident as she was effortlessly jerked forward. She could feel the strength in the woman’s grip, the power, as well as the iron-clad discipline that kept her from shattering Marinette’s arm in her hand like a toothpick. 

Scanning Nora’s stance, Marinette saw in a heightened, perhaps superhuman, view, the raw power that she possessed. There was little doubt in Marinette’s mind that even with the power of the Ladybug Miraculous that Alya’s sister could still hold her own against the spotted hero, strength-wise—all by virtue of her own dedication. 

Marinette felt a small coil of something inside her. Fear? Envy? Admiration? She didn’t quite know. But as Nora shifted Marinette’s arm in her grip, angling her limb and demonstrating how to properly throw a straight punch, Marinette knew one thing for sure: she was going to do everything in her power to take that strength and make it her own. For Paris, for the people. 

“Sooo,” she said as she repeatedly hit the bag, Nora nodding as her fist struck with a little more precision in every punch, just perhaps a hint of magic seeping into her form. Something within her stirred with each contact, her knuckles itching at both in both pain and anticipation. Marinette could swear she heard Tikki hum softly from her place safely within her jacket at the rush of adrenaline, of heat, the physical form becoming movement. A sort of creation, perhaps. 

But, her eyes clouded, there would be more to fighting Chat Blanc than simple punches, and she knew that. She side-eyed Alya, no doubt hosting a similar train of thought herself, and watched as her friend made a cautionary glace between her and Nora. Marinette shrugged. 

”So,” she cleared her throat and addressed Nora again, determined to ask, “What are kickboxing’s defenses against close range weapons? Like, oh I don’t know, a staff or something?” 

Marinette saw Alya blanch, her face curling into bemused yet nervous panic at Marinette’s blunt question, but Nino leaped forward before Nora could address it. 

“Yeah dudette,” he said, stilted, “what if like, someone grabbed like, uh, a massive stick and just started running at me--full tilt—what do I do then?” 

Nora left her place at Marinette side to go and loom over Nino, her intrusion onto his space causing him to shrink away in her shadow. Marinette saw Alya chuckle slightly at his discomfort—protentional crisis averted. 

“Well in that case Cappy,” Nora said, flicking Nino’s cap askew, “You’d dodge, probably, but it really depends.” 

Marinette, pausing her punches, saw as Nino swallowed slightly and open his mouth again to speak. “So like, uh, it depends on what, exactly?” 

Nora clapped a heavy hand on his shoulder and he jumped. “Plenty. The guy, their speed, their size, their skill, the stick, your surroundings—a lot of things really.” 

Marinette saw Nora’s eyes seemed to glow as she spoke, not violently per sey, but with a warmth, a passion in her voice pouring over each word like honey, or fire. 

“My job here,” Nora continued,” after teaching you lightweights some basic stances, is to teach you the instincts that determine for you, in that moment, what to do.” She smiled. “You gotta pour your hearts into this guys! I ain’t accepting nothing but the best from all of you.” 

She suddenly spun back to Marinette. “Did I tell you to stop punching?” Marinette jumped at the question, stumbling over an answer. 

“Ah no..” 

“Then get back to it! “Nora said, voice light and commanding, a benevolent yet wild grin spread across her face, “I’m going to go set up my sister and Cappy here at their own bags,” she chuckled, “you all are going to be so gloriously sore tomorrow.” 

Marinette turned back to her bag and struck it again, engrossing herself in the feel of her fists, so small and pale, sending rippling shockwave with each impact. She saw Nino and Alya being coached out of the corner of her eye, Alya’s fist being guided to the bag by her sister slowly, then faster, Alya taking over as her eyes blazed in what Marinette could only assume was the same urgency and power that overcame herself now. 

Marinette knew that she wasn’t a violent person. But this feeling rippling through her was something else, something constructive. There was a beauty to it, the way her muscles coiled and sprung forward like a taunt wire’s break, and as she watched Nora line up Nino’s arm for a punch, she saw it, that same spark ignite, guided by Nora’s rough yet gentle hands. This power within to protect, to defend. And as she felt her heart begin to race, adrenaline like magic surging within her at every blow, a cool calm came over her mind. 

The energy, the rush, it was just like before, beneath the Eiffel, in the moonlit gardens. But now it was stronger, growing within her as she fed its might, and it was completely and indivisibly hers. 

She still had fears, she still had anxieties, and she still doubted her own ability to triumph. But as the world fell away, leaving only the feel of her body, moving, creating life, she took control of her physicality and reached out, to a place just out of her reach yet oh so close. 

Hopeful. 

The ability, the understanding, the something she still needed—perhaps it was within her reach after all. 

***

“Father?” 

Adrien had arrived home and been ushered to his father’s office by Nathalie upon arrival. His father stood silent, imposing next to a tall window, his hands held behind his back as he looked out upon the Paris skyline. There was always something silently imposing about him, but Adrien could see something different in his posture now, something concrete. He turned to Adrien. 

Their eyes met, and Adrien froze in place, attentive. 

His father smiled sadly. “Your safety is the most important thing to me, you know that?” he said, cold eyes softening, just a bit. He stepped forward, taking Adrien’s hand lightly, the connect ghostly, still and like mist. 

“I’ve decided on our next move,” he said, silent yet commanding. “We know our enemy, we know their abilities, and we know what we need to do. We’re not going waste anymore time.” 

Adrien felt his father’s hand clench around his, vice-like in his grip. 

“Prepare yourself, Adrien,” he said with cool conviction, “we’ll be acting again very soon.”


End file.
